Circulating Spirals of uncertainty rise and retreat.
Dark forms burn in my brain, casting secret shadows from clear flame,
releasing Angels and Demons, both pure and profane.
Coals burn hot with life filling my soul
And yet the darkened logs weigh heavy as all toil.
flames in my head grope at the sky
like a hornet’s nest, swirling fears and lies
biting notions of a burning will
to fight, what love, and who to kill.
It all seems useless.
The pressure strains in multitudes
smoke of all lost and ash of all dead
only substance, white-orange and lapping
is the fire in my whirling world
destined to disperse.
Yet feed the flames again and again,
I catch onto new worlds whether living or dead.