Up, on the tip of the flame
White dancing disappearing.
Buried in cellular flames deep
Within embers embraced.
As fleeting as a flicker
Becomes smoke the ashes waft
Dust into air into living and breath.
Stolen froth off the timeless beasts
Mouth, the masters revoke your
Sentence, to become a mounted steed
A father.
And they mate, not by threats
But loyalty not by chance
But lusts analogy
To love.
As therefore matters are made
Your majesty, the creator,
Gaveth thy dagger
And her sheath.
And fires dance to flicker
Airs to breathe
Like water
To quench thirst
And matters
Of nature to worship.
Nothing less.
Nothing more.
Noble as any kings conception.
Yet, personal.
Appropriate by design,
Thus dawns
Origin.