In the forge of sight, a cinder wakes to flame,
where every edge the mind has hammered true
dissolves in pressure purer than the blue
that burns through ash, unclaiming what it names.Each proof I shape returns, a brittle frame
no logic welds nor reason can renew;
the Center sifts it, searing to its due—
a hollow thrust where no distinction reigns.You are the Radius retracting all,
the Apex eating summit into void,
a tensile dark no outline can withhold.Belief ascends its arrow to the Call,
and piercing, finds not summit, but annulled—
the All-Devouring making Nothing whole.
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