Shin

Odie O'Dool hath been a fool, soaked in drool he dreamt of jewels

But now the shack grew strangely warm — a fire that whispered, not alarmed

It danced without a single flame — yet lit the air and spoke his name

The walls began to pulse with light — as if his words were set alight

The Prophecy O broke into three — a crown of flame above the sea

Each tongue of fire hummed alone — then weaved a truth in burning tone

Ohm appeared, not flesh or breath — but silhouette of sacred death

He did not teach, he did not lead — he simply let the fire feed

The shack did not burn down or break — it only shook in silent quake

The air turned thick with molten thread — and truths he feared came forth instead

He saw the mask he wore for praise — the way he'd stall, the thoughts he'd glaze

He saw the hunger in disguise — the dream of jewels, the gilded lies

But some things glowed and did not burn — like love he gave with no return

And songs he hummed beneath his breath — and care he gave while fearing death

The fire judged, but not with scorn — it kissed what truth had gently worn

It bit the words he never said — then stitched them into light instead

It did not ask, it did not plead — it only gave him back his need

To be not perfect, clean, or fast — but true to all that he had passed

He stepped outside with trembling hand — and saw the stars still understand

No crown was placed, no song was played — just him, refined but not remade

The O reformed, the flames withdrew — and hovered now in sacred hue

For Shin had scorched the final lie — and left the truth to burn and fly