Untitled

I am seen once in the light of fire
As the choir of thoughts persists on a note breaking glass,
Shaping conclusions towards the obvious.
Again I am seen to burn away
In bursts of lessening light until I am not understood.

The match strikes on love,
The abrasion of sacrifice; I am more when I burn.

Turn, turn, turn the fist on the bellows,
Pounding down man locked in earth in space.
Give me the grace to live and burn.
I love a girl, a pearl,
But we could not dare to be above ourselves:
Flee once and the earth may fold away,
Breathe once out, and the chest collapses in,
Begin to doubt that we love at all--
Or that we live.

But the match strikes on love, we live!
See the glow as the wind blows.
It knows the will of ancient shells shaped as fine jewelry.
The choir of hidden exhalations burst in squares;
They tear away the smooth of heirloom bark.
It's dark--too dark--but breathe the scent
Of cedars bent and broken in the writhing, rent,
And brightest pattern of intention on a weaker will;
Love shatters to reveal not pearls,
But shells to grow them in.

I will be known to cast gray pearls that shone
Once when I alone existed as a child
Into the brighter noble tender chaos;
That fire without fuel or heat,
But sweet aromas on these stones
That crack and split and moan and sigh
And exhale as they purify.

And that match struck on love.
And the gritty feathers of a shapeless dove.
And what comes from above is higher than we are.