.................................................................­.................................................................­...

                          It was there heating
                                            sloping cavernous craniums

                         It was there illuminating
              marble hallways

         It was there immolating
                              witches at stakes

                                     Its fierce essence
                          frightens wilder-beasts

                                   Its mesmerizing radiance
  lures moths to annihilation

                       When in love, we often become
             both wilder-beast and moth

                As children, we learn
             to leap back from the flame

                               When old, we are rolled
                 into iron incinerators

                                    And every day between
   We are encompassed by suns
                       We are consumed by flickering passions

                                  We set-off firecrackers
                           for amusement

               We light candles
                                     to measure time

                         Veladoras to whisper
                                 to gods

                                          Fire is Life

                                      Something in us will
                                            forever burn.

I wish
that in
another lifetime --

should there be
another one --
and surely,

we'll find
each other
again --

in whatever
form
we'll take;

I wish
you
and I --

wont let
our souls
hurt

this much,
this way--
ever again~

I'll depart this world,
Leaving it three times better
Than this entrance.
Ha! You've already formulated
Your argument, beginning with
*******,
And concluding with
Deluded.
My counter proposal has
Three hypotheses:
Kathleen, Maggie and Andrea.

Sometimes
Just walking away,
Not looking back
due to the pain we shalt feeleth.......
Is the best answer,
Though we shalt always forgive...
Just looking back isn't an option anymore...

so many kinds of writers;
some with stars in their eyes and
souls on their sleeves;
some, with stony stares
and a voice that thrives in silence.