Fire Dancer of the Ancestors
She spins
in the language of flame—
her dress a storm
of burning petals,
her braids catching sparks
from memories older
than bone.
The Earth listens
as her heels strike the ground,
each step
a heartbeat
echoing through the ribs of time.
Around her,
light breaks open—
a horizon of molten suns
rushing toward her palms,
embracing her
as the chosen one
who dances
So the world
will not forget
It's fire.
Fire Dancer of the Ancestors
She spins
in the language of flame—
her dress a storm
of burning petals,
her braids catching sparks
from memories older
than bone.
The Earth listens
as her heels strike the ground,
each step
a heartbeat
echoing through the ribs of time.
Around her,
light breaks open—
a horizon of molten suns
rushing toward her palms,
embracing her
as the chosen one
who dances
So the world
will not forget
It's fire.
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