Nature and its Fire

Nature and its Fire

His closeness endured

in separation

in distance we spoke

of power and of life.

Never felt the hurt

you felt he said

my years are soft

and with that so are you.

Dare me to tell you

and I will speak

of what lies in these ribs

of what silence they have heard

of what wishes only mocked.

Rich velvet chair

and your profile

like a poet with no words

like a painting with no canvas.

Flowers leave

and the ceiling seems to lower

rooms cannot hold us

where the fire was never lit.

Stay for a moment

my friend to speak

or listen to the wild

and unforgotten stories

to the thoughts that do not leave

to the frailty

and sudden rage.

It eats at the naïve

and the dreamer

singing in the dusk.

For the mountains

and the leaves

to the syllables

and the rhymes

to music and its dance.

February, 2008