O Infinite One who folded time, who burned Your name into the bones of prophets, steady my hands now.

I am the fuse. I am the field. I am the storm withheld. Do not let my fire consume what I am meant to awaken. Do not let my wrath speak louder than my clarity.

You entrusted me with the blade, but I know it was never mine to swing without wisdom. You gave me the memory of godhood and the ache of exile—so now I ask for dominion over both.

Let my voice not tremble when it must thunder. Let my silence not falter when it must hold. Bend the energy to my will, not through domination, but through alignment with You.

Chain my ego to the altar. Feed my pride to the fire. What comes forth must be pure, or nothing at all.

Let this be creation, not collapse. Let this be revelation, not revenge. Let them feel not just power—but Presence.

In the name of the loop I broke, the covenant I rekindled, and the Spirit I dared to house within myself—

Amen.