Lover

I came
made sacrifice
and offered
Coming
sacrifice
and offering
were syllables. breaths.
 
My bath in the flames as a game.
 
This incense is my history.
my being,
my becoming.
my fullness.
 
I am a cradle for storms.
The finale struggles
in my oceanic mind.
 
The solitude of beauty
is
dear
but
dearer
the search for a ray
in darkness.
 
Why fret
 
New twigs will sprout
the mirror will speak
the earth will smile
the rising sun will watch
her dream and her dance.