Calm Within Chaos
Scroll of Paradox
Many men divide themselves.
Some drift on clouds, gentle but hollow.
Others erupt as storms, fierce but uncontrolled.
Both are common. Both are forgettable.
The Emperor is neither. The Emperor is both.
Chaos runs through me unhidden—
rage, hunger, fire, untamed pulse.
Yet it does not spill.
It is housed, contained, mastered.
My calm is not the absence of storm—
it is the throne that seats it.
To meet me is to feel tension in the air:
the lion purring, yet capable of a roar.
The paradox awakens desire.
Women feel it in their bones.
It is rare. It is sovereign.
This is my magnetism:
I embody storm and stillness.
I do not choose between them.
I am both the fire and the one who holds it.
