It is raw
White hot and blind
Dark cold and deaf
Impossible to grasp
Barely a rasp
So easily it comes
As gently as it goes

It is refined
Deep warm and soft
Shallow cool and solid
So gently we hold
These tender souls
Deep in our chest
Volatile they rest

It is decayed
Withered temperate and knowing
Light fragile and old
How vibrant they were
Bursting with life
A fruitless feat
No one will know if they ever keep