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Ai say, receiving via bluetooth,
oh, say, this must be our sign, soon...

On some curve of life function rectifiers,
we have believers who make reasons
for all individual inflamed,
proud local flesh
or agreement clusters
of our kind.

Should you have decided
this is the day,
I heard,
at your I level you hear
this is the day.

Your part, your role, react in part

We have been called.
Out from the shadows mellow,
no dramatics, satisfaction granted,
taken, rest and recuperate, hate later…

listen, this, in its word flow,
is part of time words exist in,
after being read once, right made,

this dabar is said
to use the pen
of a ready writer, eh what better effort,
effectually adapting
to our instant constant

in prayer, believe is a verb,
on your side.

We believe
we know how faith must
function using our faculties
for sensing needs, which are keyed
to homeostasis, relative balance
of the chemistry and mechanics
of life
in motion.

We can do this with no hate at all, wisdom
fruits entreated with in bubbles of war,
for some certainly ****** reasons,
we can infect your wished real,
reasons to beg for bread, real,
humility costs that gnosis,
and so do many religious
ties to late spring around here.
Amen, an intro on a 137 page conversation, a monk I know compiled/
Two candles, side by side,
Arms of thread—their aid—
Wrapped around as they hug,
Gracious flames of burning shrug.

Two candles, side by side,
They burned and radiated light.
Hesitance grew as they stood;
They burned their thread—passionate mood.

One cried, the other raged.
Flames engulfed the fabric red.
Two candles, side by side—
A burning heart, in between, laid.

Smaller the candles grew,
Glory to the light they drew.
One burning, the other hides—
Two candles, held side by side.
Mica Wood Feb 8
Mangonadas for dinner,
or maybe just a snack.
Cooking isn’t my forte—
an unfortunate skill to lack.

But when I was a child,
my brother caught on fire.
He leaned against the stove
as if it were his pyre.

Falling to the floor,
he stopped and dropped and rolled—
and luckily for him
the fire was controlled.

I ran upstairs in terror!
I screamed and I cried!
I thought I’d lost my brother—
I thought that he would die.

Lifting up his shirt,
he showed his big, black scar—
Such a drastic contrast
I could see it from afar.

Anxiety came in,
and never did I learn
to cook myself dinner—
too afraid to burn…
A true account of my first memory with fire.
Alice Wilde Jan 22
And spit it out.

Like a *** of wet paper
Fired straight from a straw

I want to inhale it. Taste it. Swallow it.

Make it take shape in my chest; Douse the fires raging in the bowels of my being as they threaten to burn through, scalding my soft belly like embered iron.

Let me protect you.

I will eat up every last bit of sorrow you hold and endlessly fight for your worth.
Trinkets Jan 20
own
I make you fight
for what you value
as if it is your own
while to the ground
I slowly burn your home
Ejiro Jan 13
The symbol of fire reaches out to me
lighting every tree in its path
it finds me near the earth’s soil
it circles a ring of flames around my finger
telling me that I have been given a gift
with a smile of ego across its face
it returns back where it once came from
so now where I stand in the corner of time
whenever I am at arms length of a person
and reach my hand out to them
I scorch myself
leaving a permanent burn mark
that I can’t get rid off
leaving me disgusted of my own capability
of such a devastating curse
and so I try to find a solution
with a bundle of sticks from the forest
I dip my fingertips into them
letting the flames do the introduction
the sparks I had released formed smoke
with every breath I take I inhaled it
leaving gray clouds populating my vision
after this experiment I have done
I began to do it daily
throughout this process I found peace
until one day
I inspired the rapture of a wildfire
as it consumes every tree, bush, and ****
I didn’t feel it circling me
and so as the aftermath came
with smoke and ashes populating the burned down forest
where I laid
I felt satisfied but not fulfilled
Cat ꨄ Jan 11
I dance around a fire, burning too hot.
Fire I foolishly threw gasoline on.
If I take a wrong step,
misplace my footing,
I’ll surely be burned.

The warmth, a stark contrast to the cold night,
But the heat has become sweltering.
My hair has began to singe,
my feet have blistered.

Every crackle threatens an explosion,
At any moment it’ll combust,
but still I continue to dance.
St. John's Dance was a nickname for a medieval epidemic of dancing mania.
Immortality Jan 9
I chase stars
not to hold them
but to feel the burn
of hope
on my hands.

The sky was never
meant to be touched
only to be
reached
even when it
feels too far.

I want make my own destiny.... simple :)
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