Fire Art

pixabay — miravlux

Dear Wild Flower,

I’m late! I’m late! I’m late! For our collaboration. So, I’ve decided, since my poetic brain is AWOL I’ll just leave whatever words come along.

I’ve been stuck on two ideas that I have been trying to wrestle into something poetic: “not this skin” from your last poem; and the concept that the third part is always the hardest.

And so:

Three times sets a rhythm
And four turns again
Another three to follow
To reach a journey’s end

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Returning to beginning
Then rising to respond
Balance in the order
Beneath the broken sounds

Between the fire and water
All things do compose
The magic of the universe
In the essence of a rose

There’s rhyming in the stars
Harmony in the winds
Whispers from the fire
The oceans pulse within

Burning off desire
By drowning in the sea
Love’s pain, a recompense
Submission to be free

These hearts beating
Beneath these outer shells
Attune to deeper drums
Seek out deeper wills

These skins, these words
These metaphoric faces
Cast shadows in this light
Over time, only traces

But three times — a rhythm
The music of the heart
On four, the dancers rise
To begin their fire art.

This poem follows Wild Flower’s “A long night inside”… and my third part of our collaboration.