Up, on the tip of the flame
  White dancing disappearing.
Buried in cellular flames deep
    Within embers embraced.
As fleeting as a flicker
       Becomes smoke the ashes waft
Dust into air into living and breath.
Stolen froth off the timeless beasts
     Mouth, the masters revoke your
Sentence, to become a mounted steed
      A father.
And they mate, not by threats
        But loyalty not by chance
But lusts analogy
   To love.
As therefore matters are made
       Your majesty, the creator,
Gaveth thy dagger
          And her sheath.
And fires dance to flicker
  Airs to breathe
       Like water
To quench thirst
         And matters
Of nature to worship.
Nothing less.
     Nothing more.
Noble as any kings conception.
      Yet, personal.
Appropriate by design,
     Thus dawns
             Origin.