Well, I’ll know clarity when
I am not born of smoke
but of the flame—No, when I’m
the flame itself, all
woodwick & nightshaft
to die too early
to know smoke. I will
outlive, outlast. I will burn
greater than the most
vibrant stars wrought of
the greatest holy sacred fire
shed for everything, those
martyrs in silence
I will sing anthems—
souls of the universe I will be all.
I will know clarity soon, before
such Time befalls, perhaps; I will know,
surpassing wood and smoke for nothing
and you will be born some day of
these rays as I am ashes at last.
I’ll flare and I’ll fade, hold bright & fast,
the gold beams of Logic lost in heat & task.