The cradling fire,
In clarity rises.
Breathing in the intimacy,
Through the halls of tranquility,
Darkness on its own,
Kneels to passion.
But great enemies,
Hate with love.
The grounds of the flame
Teased then rooted
-They’re approaching.
A soothing light,
From the centers of our clasped hands,
Beams through our eyes,
Our hearts.
Such intensity,
Becomes the mirror.
Two of me,
Two of you,
And none of us.
We smolder in the ambiguity,
For love has no substance.
And ashes so vacant,
We breathe clarity,
In the blindness.
Great enemies,
Hate with love.
There’s heat,
But only for the mirror and I.
Will the light shed?
Will the ashes come?
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