Fire burns, the heat is on
passion rising, senses singing,
misty light is ringing round the moon;
and yet the night is cool and moist,
giving heat the chance to cool
into a glowing, growing sphere
that speaks of all that we hold dear.
Flesh alive, each particle
not quite knowing what to do
to satiate its need;
and so it feeds upon itself
in cyclic flows that stream
the dreams of life into eternity.
Smoldering embers breathe
in depths of air,
as mistily, the fog sinks down into the ground
readying itself to rise and flow again
into those hazy droughts of air, imbibing
of an early morning atmospheric wealth,
that rises in a sense of stealth
just as the night sinks down.
While the moisture still surrounding
keeps me safe from all the heated strife
and stress of others’ ways of life,
leading me yet further on
into these realms unaltered
and unuttered as of yet,
as fire burns and moisture quells
the many wells where buried voices dwell;
arising with the wind again
to speak in splendor of eternity . . .
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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