Shaking, dancing, beating like a flame on a candle
and rapid breathing creates sultry mirages in the air,
fumy shadows on the walls.
What does the fire feel in the palms of its master?
Life - lust, burning, shudder...
Death - despair, cold, darkness...
Just one thy touch, and my heart turns into a phoenix,
opens the wings to the tips of the arteries, breaks out in a greedy conflagration,
craving to become a part of you, wanting to absorb its lord, to become you, to give away all its ardor without a trace, to die, dissolving into you.
What does the fire born from your breath feel?
The world hiding in the darkness as a hushed beast.
The world gazing in awe and delight at the campfire dancing in the desert.
The world, pierced by the curved spikes of lightning, frozen, illuminated with heavenly light to its farthest borders, turned by this outbreak inside out.
The world, extending indefinitely beyond any sight, luxuriating in the flow of life-giving energy gliding through, exploding with thousands of new outbreaks in response.
What does a candle feel when the heat becomes unbearable, when the insatiable flame touches the thin supple white flesh with its carnivorous tongue?
Pain? Fever? Pleasure? Life? Death?
I do not know. But, obedient to thy will, I dance like a gleeful flame on your candle. Drawing eager tongue into a thin string, when you bring your hand closer,
beating from touches and pushes,
fusing you into scorching transparent droplets.
They go down the candle gathering at the base and solidify in pale puddles.
The flame flutters and greedily swallows cool autumn night, pouring in through the open window.
And the candle fuses and fuses the night, drunk by the insatiable flames to the dawn,
and the sky thickens like white wax on my fingers.