Peaks of stone pierce the heavy air,
Distant temples silent in their prayer.
A flash above, a sudden tear in dark,
Waking the ancient, waiting for the spark.
Upon the edge, a shadow steps in gold,
Hunger of the ages, stories untold.
He watches slow, a strength that waits its turn,
Must the flesh be disciplined before the heart can learn?
Above him coils the wisdom of the sky,
Emerald scales beneath a watchful eye.
Not moving yet, the ancient power keeps,
While destiny across the valley sleeps.
In the center sits the curious mind,
Reaching for the truth that few can find.
His palm upon the glyph of glowing fire,
What path arises from the heart’s desire?
The Storm, the Tooth, the Scale, and the Stone,
Ask not what is found, but who is known.
The path isn't carved on granite cold,
But in the balance that the shadows hold.