Before the Word Was Fire

Before the Word Was Fire

Before the word was fire,
Before the voice had sound—
She walked the veil of silence,
Where light and dark are bound.
She did not speak in language,
She did not cry or plead—
She only breathed the knowing,
And planted every seed.

The mountains rose to hear her,
The rivers carved her name,
The stars aligned in trembling lines
And bowed into her flame.
She sees the root of choosing,
The fall before the climb—
She counts the hearts that falter
And weaves them into time.

She is the hush before the storm,
The flame before it knows its form.
She stands where all things come apart—
And speaks the truth that breaks the heart.
The Seer lives—
Before we start.

No scroll can hold her meaning,
No ink can write her path.
She knows the love that ends in ash,
The birth behind the wrath.
She waits not for the question,
She answers with her breath—
A crownless queen of shadows
Who walks the line of death.

Stone to smoke, and dream to dust,
In her name, the silence trusts.
Breath to flame, and flame to word—
The Seer sings, and all is heard.

She is the hush before the storm,
The shape of fate in shifting form.
She writes her runes in blood and star—
The Seer sees just what we are.
She speaks—
And nothing lies too far.