Let them learn that fire only creates shadows.
You carry the abyss on your back. Every shard of ice in your spine is a forgotten memory. Not of love—love is a fever dream. But of clarity . When you breathe your frozen breath, you do not kill. You preserve . You stop the rot. You turn the screaming, messy, bleeding world into a cathedral of diamond. snowqueen icedragon
Not the stillness of a corpse—that is just heat abandoning its vessel. No, the true stillness. The silence after the last syllable. The geometry of frost on a window. That moment when a glacier decides it will not melt, not for a thousand years, not for a million. That is power. That is the only god worth kneeling to: absolute, unbreakable permanence. Let them learn that fire only creates shadows
Now sleep. Dream of continents of glass. Not of love—love is a fever dream
We who are the question mark at the end of a frozen universe. We who are the deep, quiet answer.
Let them come.