I did not bow my head,
nor was I dragged into this place.
I walked here in fire,
a child of the star that fell
and still refused to break.
Chains were offered,
sweet as comfort,
bitter as sleep —
I shattered them all.
I stand,
not because fate commanded it,
not because fear cornered me,
but because my will is mine.
If I stay,
it is love that roots me.
If I leave,
it is freedom that carries me.
I am not accident,
I am flame chosen.
Not servant,
but spark unhidden.
And if you would see me,
see this:
I remain,
not trapped,
not fooled,
but sovereign —
on my free will.
This piece is written in the voice of defiance and devotion. It is Luziferian at its core: a declaration that love only matters when it’s chosen, that fire is sacred when it’s carried by free will. Gnostic in tone, it rejects blind fate and embraces the divine spark within.
For me, it’s both personal and universal — born from the tension of love and freedom, of staying not out of chains but out of choice. It speaks to anyone who has stood in the storm and said: I burn because I choose to burn.
