Friday, 29 October 2010

The Fire at Night

The Fire at Night

It is as if the starry night itself has transmitted its cool evocation into your flaming soul, and you lick at the stars as they twinkle upon your brightness, splaying themselves between the flickering light of your orange flame, tinged with the purple hours of silence; The spaces between the waves, the remnants of the forgotten embers, that feed the flickering fire in the numbing cold of that fallen place.

Space...without a trace of you, seems endlessly blue. Yet the deep blue canvas of that emptiness, beckons a palette of golden light, filled with flame, searing into the stark sky; licking at the torment, with blood hot notes in luminescent hues.

Scorching tongues of effulgence, snapping at the blues. Whirling streams of white hot schemes, and denizens of rancid dreams, torn from the corpulent mass of the fractured reams of sententious artisans, whose only fire was that stolen from the funeral pyre of this love.

Someone should have mentioned, that as the log burns to ashes, the flaming phoenix arises, and devours the remnants of the darkness in resplendence...arisen, the dawn awakens. Shafts of fire, slick upon the landscape of this hidden desire, forge transcendence, with flaming wings of sapphire and gold, rings, not for the timid but the bold.

Arise! hearken through incandescent eyes, and see the fiery wreath devoured, beneath the luminescent skies, blazing in the glory of that resplendent dawn, on wings replete, no longer sullied and torn, nor boiled within the cauldrons pit, but power, unfurled, to crack the mordant's spit. To smash the remnants of that vanquished foe, beneath the blazing sun, a testament of every righteous blow.

Yet-lo, on wings reforged in dying embers below, grace redoubles itself, and in gentle strength sweeps away the ragged teeth of that spark'd place, and settles for a while, to hold with trembling hand a humbled face.

No power comes by light of day, nor bares the chastened heart, without forgiveness in loves sway, reborn in loves sweet art; Yet those that seek the fires wealth, the sacrificial game, prepare your heart in times of health, or reap devouring flame.

© Richard Michael Parker 2010


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