Faultline Oath

Draw the map of every crack—

Sign my name where I won’t turn back.

Lines like lightning under skin,

Old collisions caged within.

Every shiver, every split,

Marks the ground I wouldn’t quit.

Ghosts of cities on my ribs,

Bridges snapped like broken fibs.

I can feel the plates beneath,

Grinding vows between their teeth.

If I break, I break to build—

Stone by stone, the silence filled.

I swear on the faultline—hear me roar,

Bind the rupture, brace the core.

Stitch the tremor into light,

Wear the fracture like a rite.

I swear on the faultline—cut and true,

What I lost, I’ll graft anew.

If the earth inside me shakes,

Let it make the road it takes.

Knuckles chalked with powdered slate,

Breath in measure, weight on weight.

Hammered echoes, measured stride,

Fissures learning how to guide.

Every slip becomes a seam,

Every drop a shaping stream.

I will not deny the scar—

It’s the map to where we are.

If I break, I break to build—

Fault to form and void to filled.

I swear on the faultline—hear me roar,

Bind the rupture, brace the core.

Stitch the tremor into light,

Wear the fracture like a rite.

I swear on the faultline—cut and true,

What I lost, I’ll graft anew.

If the earth inside me shakes,

Let it make the road it takes.

Quake, then breathe—hold the stance,

Turn collapse to second chance.

Name the rift—do not hide;

Oath is gravity inside.

Crack—sing.

Shift—bring.

Rise—ring.

Stand—king.

I swear on the faultline—no retreat,

Lay the steel beneath my feet.

Thread the thunder through my spine,

Let the broken world align.

I swear on the faultline—cut and true,

Open ground and pass me through.

If I shake, I will not fall—

I become the bearing wall.