The blaze should brandish those who step wrong,
yet you walk barefoot on that great wall of coal.
A tongue of flames licks at your lips,
relishing the language you speak and control.

The blaze should char the rebels among us,
yet you hop, skip and jump in the fire.
It’s as if your ashes have already scattered,
and are born anew in that smouldering aisle.

The blaze should keep us rounded together,
yet you step through as if to prove a point.
You speak of great wonders beyond the red wall,
making a canvas with charcoal for paint.

The blaze should keep out all that’s unsafe
yet you say this ring is a hellish world.
You cry that inside the flame is insane,
and that doctrines we live by are sinful words.

Inside or outside; one is not right,
but I should not say by this blazing light.
Because if I am wrong, it will burn through me,
and that is something I can’t bear to see.