You are fire,
Wild, without shape,
And volatile,
Always on the edge of engulfing
Both the delicate apple blossom
cradled in the tree’s strong boughs,
Or the butterfly’s wings,
Which are nothing more than painted dust,
And rotting bones,
Calling flocks of flies to forgotten flesh,
Or weeds
Spreading their tainted seed
To drain an already empty world
Until all are nothing but ash
Waiting to cool.  

Yet, had Prometheus not stolen you
And given you to man
Then where would we be?
Shivering in the dark,
Pale and blind like cavefish
Staring at our neighbor’s,
With our pin needle eyes?
At the specters of man’s potential
Serving as our reflections?
Living off of roots covered in soil
And meat still bleeding onto the stone ground?
There are better ways to live.  

We breathe fire,
It is only sometimes that we burn.  

You are not invincible,
Not like you would lead us to believe
With your searing touch
And hot tongue.      
Take away your air
Smother you with sand, with earth
Drown you with water
And you are reduced to nothing but smoke.  
A fire must be tended,
For when left alone,
If it does not destroy,
It will fade away.  



I used to think of myself
As the cold –
Not the snow,
For there is beauty there
And I didn’t believe myself beautiful –
No I thought of myself as ice
For ice can burn,
But it does not give back.
Then I met you,
You and your flaming heart
Running at a temperature hot enough
To thaw even the coldest
Patch of frost.  

When I look at you
This is what I see
But my words, when they are spoken
Are incoherent, meaningless
And I am left angry
For you will never know,
No one will ever know,
That past all the blood and flesh
You are fire.