I. The sky, falling, why does it melt when you read poetry? The earth sways, then stills as your silken words touch. And all I want is to be lost in your soft, gentle voice; and melt in your sky. II. The moon, rising, why is it on fire? I hear words gently breathing, is it the Pleiades singing teasing Orionβs chase; or is it the sirenβs call enticing ocean waves? And all I want is to burn in your flame.