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A fire rages inside. It wants to consume like an ancient god, long forgotten, feeling the soot of sacrificial smoke on its skin. It yearns for bygone rituals, warm hearts offered like fruit by trembling hands. Yet it is the same fire that kindles words in a poet’s mouth, the same flame that cradles fragile clay inside the womb of a kiln. A warmth that births a thousand realities. Self-immolated, burned to the last bone. Something stirs in the ash— a god remembering his name.
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Oct 20, 2025
Oct 20, 2025 at 1:50 PM UTC
Eros and Thanatos
A fire rages inside. It wants to consume like an ancient god, long forgotten, feeling the soot of sacrificial smoke on its skin. It yearns for bygone rituals, warm hearts offered like fruit by trembling hands. Yet it is the same fire that kindles words in a poet’s mouth, the same flame that cradles fragile clay inside the womb of a kiln. A warmth that births a thousand realities. Self-immolated, burned to the last bone. Something stirs in the ash— a god remembering his name.
brennan-terre
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Oct 20, 2025
Oct 20, 2025 at 1:50 PM UTC
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