Boys Who Breathe Fire and Flowers

Boys who breathe fire walk barefoot on stone,

Have voices like thunder, their hearts forged alone.

With embers for words and a tempest for hands,

they carve their own kingdoms in smoldering lands.

Yet deep in the ash where the wildfire sleeps,

a garden of roses in silence still weeps.

For fire-born fury, is mighty and bright,

it wilts petals of softness and swallows the light.

But some of these boys, with flames in their chests,

learn how to whisper and cradle what’s best.

They tend to the lilies, they honor the vines,

they burn just enough to let beauty shine.

A boy who breathes fire, yet shelters the bloom,

is one who makes gardens from ashes and ruin.

For strength is not only in fury untamed,

but knowing when fire helps flowers remain.