We hold candles and a sense of place, Drinking down words Painted and ground into our flesh - The last remains of fire and smoke Burning our hands like an old friend. We are worn from the inside out, Shedding dreams and heat - Sweet words- Your story still fresh on my skin. Silver moon and serpentine galaxies Wrap around us like honey And the spoiled husk of the serpent, Catching our image in frost And holding it - Stars like spilled gold and lightning - Remember. We need something Beautiful about us.