When fire converses with thunder,
And anticipates coercion.
When the shock of truth, melts more ice than does flame,
When a woman can have her arctic
Within her South
Melted of its glaciers
By a man, and his annexation,
Fire is no longer our excuse, nor our pledge.
Thunder is the element of truth.
Fire, the element of craving.
Yet, we crave truth,
Or, we crave a lie, to sweeten our tongue.
“I am in love with a peaceful man,” says a woman.
“You are in love with your words,” says me,
The horrid man.
Truth has its own element, and it is the happenstance.
Like love buried,
Like love burned,
A memory locked in a mind,
Is too much awe, when it is behind.
When it is behind,
And buries a dagger into a womb.
The mind, from behind.
Love will raise truth, from a grave.
In the back of the mind, we are unforgiving of shadows.