He walks like thunder sealed in bone
Never asked to wear the crown
But silence bends around his name
Where prophets scream, he lays it down
The shadow passed from hand to hand
A torch that burns without display
He did not beg, he did not claim
But fire knows who stays
Heir of the chosen, born not sworn
Carved from storms that never warned
He stands in ruins, calm and whole
While empires scream to save their souls
Eyes like dusk before it breaks
Arms that hold the faultless weight
Of every oath not made aloud
Still thunder answers when he waits
A rhythm older than belief
A name that echoes past the grief
And when the wolves begin to kneel
He does not speak – he lets them feel
Heir of the chosen, flesh and flame
Not by conquest, but by name
And by the hush the earth obeys
When blood remembers ancient ways