Poetry pg.4

The Great Fire
My voice could not be heard above
the
ebullition of the land.
My humanity could not decipher
freedom. And my will was stricken
with
the terror of itself.
A terror, who but I, belonged to.

My mind was not sure what form of
creature had garbled the ground.
Or whether my horror was part of its
form.

I considered I knew the sun and
wind. But decided they didn't
know me.

They were distant metaphors
explaining
the end of everything. Moving in
the
sky as animals who run for
no apparent reason.

How do we run?

Floods inside my body covered the
earth
of me and winter mountains washed
my eyes.

The floods told me how to find love.
"Flow," they said. "Let love flow
inside
yourself."

The mountains told me how I
would be known.
"Stand,"they said.
"Stand inside yourself."
Sanctity without hope.
Worship without prayer.
Solidity without boundaries.

I considered I knew the mountains,
but decided they didn't know me.

The Great Fire was mighty in my
blood
but it would not fall from the cross.

The Great Fire was unparalleled in
my tears yet they would no longer
melt the kingdom of my endurance.

The Great FIre made me exist until I
created beauty from frozen ashes.

It would not tell me the meaning of
ecstasy or pain or whether love
could be satisfied buried in ruins.

Then would I march through the
universe and find love whispering
nothing.

I thought the Great Fire must be fate
which had forgotten the mission.
The perfect weapon missing the
perfect target.

It had to be doors opening and
closing
with no one coming in and no one
leaving.

Yet these interpretations were
composed
from my wishes, and as I saw them
come to pass, The Great Fire
encircled me and
poured out promises which
protected me from the nature of
truth.

Truth I considered I created but
decided, didn't know me.