Emergence

In the shadowed halls of the soul's deep cage,
Where chakras pulse like hidden flames,
Demons rise—tormentors of the age,
Whispering sins in forgotten names.

They claw and cut, they bind and break,
Forcing the fight within the chrysalis tight,
A caterpillar's war, for freedom's sake,
Against the walls that swallow the light.

Yet in their fury, a gift concealed,
Catalysts forged in pain's fierce fire,
They sculpt the strength that wounds have healed,
Lifting us higher, beyond the mire.

"You wanted to know what gave me drive,"
The king declares, sword gleaming red,
"It was you—who thrust me to survive,
In brothels low, on streets where I bled."

You created me, oh shadowed foe,
From every scar, a warrior born,
For without your trials, how could I grow?
Without your storms, no dawn is sworn.

So bless you now, for the sacrifice made,
In triumph's thrust, not malice's spite,
We run the blade through hearts unafraid,
Emerging winged, into endless flight.

For demons dance in transformation's art,
The necessary forge of soul's true might,
We thank them as we claim our part—
In evolution's grace, from dark to light.

“Our demons are the catalyst and authors of our strength. They are the prophets foretelling their own defeat.”

• S