WelcomeUser Guide
ToSPrivacyCanary
DonateBugsLicense

©2025 Poal.co

138

Wrath and righteousness whose strength begat This age old fury that none would forget Primordial thunder, cleaving stone like lightening on the mountain of the psyche

I have descended from the mount, and from the oracle No longer blinded by the tempests flash But gained the scar that told of the fall And the wisdom to prove it.

And now ascended on this fire Which has burned its symbol upon my mind To hate is human, to war and love is divine. All I claim, how deserving, the noble. All I claim, is mine alone. All I claim is MINE.

If only might to take it.

Neither law but law becomes me The last argument of kings What becomes of men but the ambitions that make them. From the fire in the belly. From the mettle in their spirit. Something greater than the sum of its parts. Or goes to pieces in the ebb and tide of circumstance Separating dross, from iron and gold.

The blast furnace of fortune and human will. To become something more.

Wrath and righteousness whose strength begat This age old fury that none would forget Primordial thunder, cleaving stone like lightening on the mountain of the psyche I have descended from the mount, and from the oracle No longer blinded by the tempests flash But gained the scar that told of the fall And the wisdom to prove it. And now ascended on this fire Which has burned its symbol upon my mind To hate is human, to war and love is divine. All I claim, how deserving, the noble. All I claim, is mine alone. All I claim is MINE. If only might to take it. Neither law but law becomes me The last argument of kings What becomes of men but the ambitions that make them. From the fire in the belly. From the mettle in their spirit. Something greater than the sum of its parts. Or goes to pieces in the ebb and tide of circumstance Separating dross, from iron and gold. The blast furnace of fortune and human will. To become something more.

(post is archived)