A Light Against the Abyss

When shadows stretch ‘twixt here and there,
And whispers wend on trembling air,
When what seems far is cruelly near,
And hearts are wrapped in webs of fear—
We cling to truths that time bestows,
And cast aside what none yet knows.

Yet lo, a flick’ring flame is spied,
It dances, sways, and will not hide.
Around its edge, we weave, we wend,
Its blaze our fears would soon amend.
For in its glow, a spell is wrought,
With power keen and dearly bought.

Desire, that thief, whose sweet embrace,
Would lead the soul to dark disgrace,
Is vanquished here, its clutches torn,
By flames that purge and passions scorn.
The fires rise, the shadows pale,
Their ceaseless dance a holy grail.

Brighter than all of Hell’s cruel might,
This burning brand, this sacred light,
Would shatter spells of demon’s lore,
And lock the gate to Hell’s own door.
Each ember speaks of trials past,
Each spark, a truth that cannot last.

Oh, blessed flame, thou dost consume,
The bitter dregs, the woeful gloom.
Through thee, we rise, though ashes fall,
And hear, at last, fate’s hallowed call.
No longer bound, no longer lost,
We pay the price, whate’er the cost.

So let the fire roaring rise,
And pierce the ebon-vaulted skies.
Its radiance pure, its wrath profound,
Doth vanquish all that lurks around.
For in this blaze, our souls are free,
And find their fated destiny.