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  • Writer's pictureRED


You’re like a force field that contains the blaze in me because you learned to grip fire with your hands

You’re a phosphoric, Promethean Man

That bends light to you

Clenched in your hands to

Mold like clay the silhouette and form

It’s not that I disdain the flame or the fierceness from which it storms

But I shift to mirage my glow

In folds of gold

And blackest smoke licking at the vision,

Blinding from the sides of that dark fission

Missing you nearly, blooming in ash

I could swell up from here a fire-birthed phoenix

That you put out again and fix

Pulling me apart just to put me back anew

To attempt to undo

My brooding force

Wildly torched

Singeing near the fantasy

Dreaming so to see between

And wound the vision, press till it’s bruised

Speckled in the phosphene bloom

But you’re holding me in place

Hands flexed to trace the figure

And the time of my arrival

A death and revival

I’ve been transforming inwardly


Holding back a force that you cannot conquer

Or contort

I envision the world from a fatalist view

I swept up from Revelation a catalyst clue

To break the seventh seal

And kneel enraptured

A fire blazed ember released skyward

And then captured by you

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