at stars

each night I roar up at stars I shake my mane at injustice it is not right that I am here I am the Sun I am Majesty but I am aground so hear me roar ROAR loud enough will they hear it ROAR and ROAR some day they must hear it ROAR and ROAR …

rapture

rapture in the flame rapture in the dance rapture is rising reaching the sky rapture in the coal rapture in the glow rapture in containment of the fire heart lying quiet hearth is a home to rapture a home to worship a kind of love so ... let the dance begin add a stick of …

become breath

the fire is a transformation cleansed to a state of purity devoured to a state of ash blown away in a state by the wind ~ Poem #534 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

start again prometheus

every day I begin again every day from nothing so when I stand it is my own design I rise to the morning from naught I think myself again into the morning ~ Poem #525 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

flay me (jealously)

I live in the borderland I am not a man I am not a god perhaps I am both these things in a fusion in my hand I hold a fire mine to keep or mine to give in my mind I hold a fire I know where it is it is mine to take …

a dream of completion

he felt himself a little mad possessed by flame dreaming destruction longing for a greater completeness to his own ears even his laughter was the cackling of a conflagration always when he closed his eyes he saw the working of the fire rising as flame felt the heat of it within he knew that at …

dance

way-way what is the song of fire way-way-way what is the dance flames shiver up and down and wavering what time will keep the rhythm of the fire dance way-way way-way way-way-way way-oh-way-oh kiss kiss the flames arising way-oh-way the fire dance ~ Poem #505 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and …

dream of empty

in restless sleep as he dreamed the fire rose and swirled the devourer unleashed to color the skies red a storm wild and unbridled burning where it struck grey ash cinders and char in its wake in restless sleep he dreamed the fire flew in black and he knew an empty place within ~ Poem …

feather to fly

last consumed the last remained both covering and revealing the modest mound of ash gradually being eaten awayfrag by its own small dance of flames almost as a final act as a conclusion to combustion a black feather rose in the near elegance of a plume of blue smoke released by the band of the …

it is (was)

it is a fire it is a man I blink … it is the smokeof a thingthat was I blink … it is ~ Poem #468 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.