Fire
1-
Fire burning bright
Light my path tonight
Dying in the wind
Light begins to thin
Fire, flickering flame
Guide me all the same
///
2-
Fire burning bright
Light my path tonight
Flickering in the cold
Will you share your soul?
The coals are burning blue
If you die I will die too
No more breath to shout
Fuel is running out
Lost beneath the wind
Never found again
flames
I put a candle on my cake
and watched my new age
burn clean, flames that
swallow oxygen to protest
what has become of me
a rapid orange, licking
the air in an attempt to
show me where my soul
will end up if I'm not careful
burning down, the wax
a powerful testament
to what is melting
me from the inside out
a darkness remains,
reminding us
of when we laughed
into pastry that eventually
melts away after so many flames
starfire
our love,
the sun turned
red giant.
expands
to consume
all in its path.
Mercury and Venus,
lost forever.
as our desire
burns its last bit
of fuel.
collapsing
into a dense
white dwarf,
devoid of fusion.
the memory of us,
a luminescent reminder
of what was.
and they wonder,
at our glow.
the final
evolutionary state
of us all,
even starfire ends.
Love Light
On tippy-toes she gleams and throws
her shade on shadowy spots.
Tied to a rope, she holds out hope
of rampantly running a-mock.
Dancing til then, she twirls and she bends
with silhouettes grotesquely tall,
who follow her leads, their elbows and knees,
herky-jerking the wall.
And she fills the room with waxy perfumes
as she sweats in her heated light;
cinnamon sticks and licorice whips
for the lovers who lit her’s delight.
They’re lying in knots, their energies shot
while she burns herself to the wick.
So, if they want her moods at their next rendevous
they had better blow her out quick.
Fire Up
One flint you are lit.
Candles flickering bit by bit.
A warmth given on the coldest night.
An oven used for heat is a poverty fright.
Wood in a fireplace is a cold man’s dream.
An alarm to watch over it protects a young child’s scream.
A leader that could guide us through the darkest night.
A street light bulb in Paris, upright.
A cook's way to make a delicious meal.
Shows us that fire is power and oh so real.
Fire
The human soul is like a fire
Starts as just a flare
Grows very quickly
Burning hot with air
Glowing through every crack
Lighting up the world
Sometimes flaring, or flickering out
Or outshining those around
burning the logs underneath
’Till there is nothing left
Except ashes and grief
And sometimes a sense of respect
