Wednesday, November 30, 2011

November 30 2011 A Sistine Chapel Kind of Morning

It is no surprise that I am a fire
raging without any borders, consuming land
at a heartbreaking rate, devouring the
loose timber within, exhuming the heat that
abides in things, this polished ruby of flame.
What is shocking is the spark that smolders.

Everpresent & the abundunce of dry
kindling that propels me. It is God's breath in
my nostrils feeding it, needing his lazy touch.

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