When raging hearts of incandescent flame
burn fierce and careless, callously ignoring
the guilt or barrages of heavy blame
encumbering the soul's inflamed, adoring
muse, to lick at the sanctum of our death,
we cannot fight the danger built inside.
For every flicker balanced on a breath,
insanity's a scorch we can't abide
until the embers, blackened, soaked by tears,
reflect a verdant subtlety of pain
so beautiful, it floats across the years
of yearning, learning, balming, cool refrain
to effervesce, like waves upon our sand,
as we advance by decade, hand in hand.
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Author Notes
We yearn in fire, but persist in water's cool flow. I hope you enjoyed the read.
Mike
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