By the long memory of ash and bone,

By truths that rot when left unowned,

We whisper not to break or burn,

But to still the wheel until minds turn.

Seal the tongue that feeds on rage,

That spits old lies as holy page.

Let every word taste what it makes,

Let silence weigh what noise forsakes.

Dim the mind that mirrors fear,

That crowns the loud and mocks the clear.

Let doubt seep in like midnight rain,

Cracking certainty’s brittle reign.

Anchor the body to mortal ground,

Where myths bleed out and masks fall down.

No banners here, no chosen few—

Only flesh, and fault, and what is true.

This is not wrath, nor spell of pain,

But shadow doing what light cannot name.

For all enchantments rot with time,

And idols fall by their own climb.

By consequence, by cause, by fact,

By history’s unblinking act—

The spell completes without a word,

When truth is seen, not merely heard.