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Touched by fire

I sometime pray to unwind
Drifting shadows in my mind,
Sounds and colors on the brink
Of a fast and cold, deep spring
To enlighten, and unspin,
And undo what’s done and kin.

“-Shadows of my dearest dead
Kiss me at the door and dread
That my bones you shake in skies
May one day your old strings pry,
May one day bid you good-bye!”

Hours in the deep I gaze,
In the fountain of my maze.
All I find - a black, bleak hole,
While the miseries of all
Heap up my estranged dark soul.

“-Had you come to see what pain
The mechanical, bold brain
Spews into these nasty veins,
Would you bury it not in sky,
In the barren blue to die?

Had you felt or heard what sores
In the wood head’s frightening gore
Would you not outshoot your fire?
In the night of its desire
Make that forest all a pyre?”

…Real, and untouched by fire
My ol’ chum who tries to tire
Fill the hole in his desire
To beseech my eye’s deep fire,
Brings around an extinct spark,
And turns back to light the dark.

Bogdan G. Gugiu
Cleveland, 10/02/2004