With fur like embers, eyes that molten shine,
Incineram emerges, a fiery, divine.
No earthly creature, bound by mortal coil,
But phoenix reborn, on wings of scorching foil.
Through burning wastelands, it soars on wings of might,
Leaving trails of cinders, where shadows take flight.
Its voice, a furnace roar, echoing through the land,
A testament to power, held in its fiery hand.
But beneath the fury, a spirit wise and old,
Holds stories of rebirth, in ashes yet untold.
For Incineram remembers, the flames that consumed all,
But from the cinders rising, heeding nature’s call.
So approach with reverence, near the smoldering heat,
Respect the rebirth, where transformation’s feat.
Offer not control, but understanding’s plea,
To learn the cycle, of fire and the wild, free.
Then, in the dance of flames and smoke’s swirling plume,
Incineram’s wisdom, unveils its hidden room.
It shares the secrets, of fire’s cleansing might,
Of purging the old, for a future ever bright.
And as the flames subside, leaving embers to glow,
Incineram ascends, a memory on the flow.
But in your heart, its power will remain,
A reminder of change, whispered through the rain.
So raise your head, when flames dance in the night,
Let Incineram’s spirit, ignite your inner light.
For in the depths of fire, where transformation sings,
The phoenix’s wisdom, forever takes wing.