Only fire can be born from a spark, nothing else.
It is impossible to keep fire not burning.
You cannot warm yourself near volcano and feel serene.
You cannot touch the sun, you can just only watch it.
Even if you love the sun, you must love it humanly, not like a moth. That is the main difference of a deeper, conscious and pure love.
No human loves suffering or wants to live in it. If one does and wants, he is something new, but anyway, not a human.
And if the one is not a human, he cannot be purer than he was before.
Pure thing is humanity. Humanity is always serene and as calm as shallow, mild water to swim in.
Being humane is the highest state of being.
Anything surpasses it with suffers, pain and fire, either can turn you to inhuman being or to ashes.
There is no humanity beyond suffering. Even if it is the suffering of the deepest love. You have to come back.
In any case and circumstances, pure love must not hurt, pure love cannot degrade, pure love has no ability to set a fire.
But the thing inside me began with an instant spark and I have been in a fire burning everything and everyone around.
I wish I could cry and extinguished this fire. Yet I cannot cry. Because its spring is not from a pure love. It does not know tears. It is from a spark, from an insincere, egoist and rampant origin.
My poetry and feelings to you are a flame. It deceives by making you feel hot when you are cold and showing itself as a great present or creating various magnificent ornaments. I remember how heroically you tried to carry it, I also tried, but it is impossible. It wants only one thing - just to burn anything it has, it finds and it encounters. Even myself.
At least, for humanity and for you I must stop it. Not being too late. I wanted to provide a divine shade, but that rampant feeling inside was always deceiving and preparing a more frightful plot everytime. It was too many times stronger than me, it was courageous and tireless, however, it was not humane.
Sorry for burning your hands, my dear
Sorry for all hurts I gave
Be attentive about the genesis of your inner impromptu and inspiration, my dear poet brethren...
Thank you Eliot York and all Hello Poetry family
Goodbye to all