love burns me with the fire of one thousand
blazing tongues of flame and heat
but
i welcome it to me and slowly
the beast quietens

only the breath of the slow moving ocean tide can ride the beast's hate away
to melt like ice in cool water
and slowly,
it does.

time heals the wounds born of fire and the beast sheds it's slippery skin,
through time,
the old, sad man with a face barren as winter trees,
the fire-bred spirit spitting magma
becomes not a beast but a simple light.

a candle, a night light for a child so scarred
only a mother's love can rekindle the flame of hope
once there.

and that is what love becomes.
love, the beast.
love, the beast?