children

[iridiscente]

The first time
I thought I held it
but it was only a
fire-cast shadow.

It had lines and definition,
perfectly human,
rational emotion,
detailed generalization
and blatant implications.
Her name was Goodbye.

The second, I held.
Our spittin' image,
since we were made from spit
back when the first fire
drove away the original
cold.

The first days were
overwhelming;
but every frigid breeze
would force my head up
and I would say
"I can do this."
It was never as hard
as I'd imagined.

Redefinition came with
accomplishment;
I am a dreamer
a future-liver, fire-holder
but it's not without fear
and it's not without want.

Everyone has a piece in them
that wants to be a king:
Command the cold away.
A piece that's into
poetic license and control...
or poetry's into them.

So we hold the fire,
to retain mobility
but holding it burns
and we must decide:
That hurting is worth
the warmth.

[sunlight]

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