I forgive you.

From within the cage built by your ancestors,
When the heat of your expectations fell upon me,
You thought I would shine.
But you, too, felt the burn of the iron, didn’t you?

Human praise is a divine addiction,
For two hundred thousand years, you haven’t escaped that prison.
You bathed in the admiration of my scorched skin’s brilliance,
Thinking my wounds would become a proud armor, spreading that radiance across the world.
But you never saw the pain of the wounds.

Yet, I forgive you.

Because amidst my silent screams, I noticed your hidden scars.
The burnt scent of which enlightened someone else’s world, millennia ago,
And shackled your very soul.
The lament that today, as hot steam, has scorched everything around.

So I promise,
The cycle of burning, the chain of shackles, ends today with this new sun.
Let futile praise vanish into the darkness of envy from today.