Fiat Justitia, et Pereat Mundus

Let the world burn—
not in wrath,
but in reckoning.
The forest has grown wild,
roots tangled in falsehood,
leaves whispering deceit.

The fire is lit.
We strike the match
to clear the undergrowth—
It will be painful.

Smoke will rise,
the earth will break.
This is the cost of clarity.
Not all will survive.
Old trees will fall,
decayed by greed,
their hollow trunks
diseased with corruption.

The fire consumes.
Let it destroy.
Let it scorch the foundations
where power once sprawled—
unchecked, unchallenged.
Let the skies rain with ash.

What rises from the flames,
we cannot know. 

But the fire will keep burning,
and as long as it does,
there will be room enough
for whatever may come—
or perhaps,
for nothing at all.