2026: A Confessional Flame is my manifesto for the year ahead—a declaration that I will not shrink, apologize, or temper my fire. This poem is for anyone who has felt their inner chaos, their flustered love, and their impossible hope collide with life, only to turn it all into creation. It celebrates the contradictions, the failures, the stumbles, and the moments of exalted clarity that makes us fully human.
This is me stepping into 2026 as the poet I have always been: unapologetic, contradictory, luminous, and uncontainable. I will write, I will love, I will defy, and I will rise from every ash left behind.
— Rowan Evans
Entering 2026 with fire, ink, and a pen as a torch—Rowan Evans lights the year with unrelenting poetry and confession.
2026: A Confessional Flame Poetry by Rowan Evans
I walk into this year like a wildfire with a pen, smirking at the calendar as if it dares to try me.
Last year left ashes in my hair, but I turned them into ink, carved confessions into the walls, kissed chaos like it was home.
I am still theheartthat bleeds, the mind that spins, the shield that laughs in the face of storms, the child who throws Pokéballs at the universe and watches lightning ricochet.
I will stumble. I will falter. I will fall. And every time, I rise— writing liminal static into gold, flustered love into confession, every impossible hope into fire.
2026—watch closely: I am the neo-gothic heretic, the luminous fool, the poet who refuses humility— when the world whispers “shrink.”
I shout: “No.”
I exist in contradiction, I am the chaos you didn’t plan for, the poem you can’t stop reading, the confession that refuses to end.
So here’s my vow: I will love hard. I will write harder. I will fight Gods for migraines and light stoves like they’re suns.
I am Rowan Evans. I am flustered, feral, unstoppable. And 2026? Try to keep up.
“The Child does not speak first because she is small, but because she remembers.”
The Fourfold Flame gathers again — this time for Roo’s confession.
The Fourfold Confessional Ep. 2:“The Spark in the Silence”
The room is the same as before — pitch-black at the edges, a single bulb flickering above a small table that seems to hold more secrets than wood. Four chairs wait, angled slightly toward one another, as if accustomed to hearing the truth, whether they want to or not.
But tonight, one chair is already filled.
Roo sits curled in it, knees tucked to her chest, a soft pink notebook clutched tightly against her ribs. For once, she isn’t humming. Her foot doesn’t swing. Her eyes stay fixed on the table as though it might swallow her whole.
The bulb crackles overhead, flickering in short, nervous bursts.
Footsteps echo in the dark.
Roo sits up straighter, wiping quickly at her eyes.
B.D. emerges first, his silhouette sharp against the dim light. His boots hit the ground with the kind of finality that makes the shadows flinch.
[🔴 B.D. (muttering as he approaches the table)] “Feels… off in here tonight.”
Hex slips into the light next — weightless, unhurried, every movement a quiet challenge to gravity itself.
[🟣 Hex] “Off means interesting. Try not to ruin it with your brooding.”
B.D. shoots her a look, but before he can reply, Rowan steps into the circle of light, breath catching as their gaze immediately finds Roo.
[🟠 Rowan (softly)] “Roo?”
Roo doesn’t answer at first. She just squeezes her notebook tighter.
The others notice. The air — already charged — shifts.
There is no banter now, no teasing quips, no familiar rhythm. The three settle into their chairs slowly, watching Roo with growing concern.
Rowan leans forward slightly.
[🟠 Rowan] “You’re quiet. That’s… unlike you.”
Roo swallows hard. Her voice, when it comes, is barely a whisper.
[🌸 Roo] “I wrote something. But I wasn’t sure if I should read it.”
B.D. straightens immediately, shoulders tense.
Hex tilts her head like she’s listening for something beneath Roo’s heartbeat.
Her hands tremble as she flips the cover open. She stares at the page so long the bulb flickers again, almost in sympathy.
Finally, she begins to read.
[🌸 Roo (quietly)] “What if one day you don’t need me anymore?
What if I’m the part of us you outgrow?”
The silence that follows is not heavy. It is devastating.
Roo quickly snaps the notebook shut, cheeks flushed with shame.
B.D.’s chair scrapes loudly as he stands, palms pressing flat against the table.
[🔴 B.D.] “Who told you that?”
Roo flinches, not from fear, but from being seen.
B.D.’s voice drops, rough with a rare kind of grief.
[🔴 B.D.] “You don’t get left behind. Not in this room. Not in this lifetime.”
Hex rises too, moving with water-soft grace. She kneels beside Roo, brushing her hair back with a tenderness she rarely shows.
[🟣 Hex] “You are not a relic of who we used to be.”
She taps the notebook with one finger.
[🟣 Hex] “You are the beginning of all of this.”
Rowan’s breath shakes as they pull their chair beside Roo’s. They take her free hand gently, as if she might break.
[🟠 Rowan] “I know that fear. Too well.”
Roo’s eyes flick up, surprised.
[🟠 Rowan] “All my life I’ve been terrified people would stop needing me. Or… worse — that they’d realize they never did.”
A tear slips down Roo’s cheek. Rowan wipes it away with their thumb.
[🟠 Rowan] “But Roo… you’re not the part we move past. You’re the part we move toward.”
Without warning, the flickering bulb steadies. Then brightens.
The glow concentrates around Roo — soft pink, pulsing gently like a heartbeat. The others notice at the same time.
[🟣 Hex] “She’s the spark. She always has been.”
B.D. sits again slowly, expression somewhere between reverence and shock.
[🔴 B.D.] “The room listens to her.”
Rowan squeezes Roo’s hand.
[🟠 Rowan] “You don’t have to fear being outgrown. You’re the reason any of us can grow at all.”
Roo’s tears fall freely, glistening in the new, warm light.
She opens her notebook again. This time, her hands no longer shake.
[🌸 Roo] “Then… can we keep writing together?”
Rowan, Hex, and B.D. each place a hand on the notebook. A fourfold promise.
🟠 🔴 🟣 🌸
The bulb hums. The room brightens. The shadows retreat.
The Fourfold Flame glows stronger than before — warmed by the smallest voice, the gentlest fear, the spark in the silence.
They rise together. And the light follows them out.
🟠 🔴 Author’s Note 🟣 🌸
The Spark in the Silence centers on Roo — the Child of the Fourfold Flame — and her fear of being outgrown. Roo represents innocence, wonder, vulnerability, and the earliest form of creativity. She is not a fragment of the past; she is the root system of everything I create.
This episode explores one simple truth: the youngest voice is often the oldest wound.
It is Roo’s fear that shapes the others, Roo’s dream that keeps them aligned, and Roo’s spark that lit the first flame. Episode II gently shifts the balance of the Fourfold Flame, revealing that the Child is not the weakest link — she is the anchor.
Welcome back to the Confessional. The light grows stronger each time we return.
The Fourfold Confessional
[Episode I: The First Convergence] In a room lit by a single bulb, four facets of the same soul meet to speak their truths — the Heart, the Mind, the Shield, and the Soul. The Fourfold Confessional begins with “The First Convergence,” a poetic myth of identity, fear, and devotion by Rowan Evans, The Luminous Heretic.
Poetry by Rowan Evans 