I talk in riddles of fires and flames and of things too wonderful to name.
I've gone a circle about a pivotal plot, found the resting place of the lonely moth, who sits a top the master's clock, keeping watch over time and space and listening to the sound of tick-tocks. I am beauty in motion, prized in the heart of a sailor's devotion, like the splendour of the open ocean, the sweetness of this potion. I am the fire's fame, a soul you cannot contain, a heart you cannot tame, too wonderful to name. Roller coasters and their paths I've traveled, I hope the road before me doesn't unravel, lest I fall again to the carousel, whose motion is of a revolving prison. It's been awhile since I've smiled, I think my heart has been on trial, today I am once again a child, the innocence of that first smile.
Once again I speak in riddles of fires and flames and of the crimson fame too wonderful to name.
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