I am the flame
was kindled in loves heart
before the nightingale and the moth came
to play their sacrificial part.
I am far bigger than the sun
into each atoms core
a potion of my light:
I lend my spark to everyone,
and it was I who made the heavens so bright.
Residing like its life-breath in
the gardens breast,
in pristine rest,
I was drawn up into its bosom by
a tree-stem, delicate and thin,
as sap that rises up towards the sky.
It quenched my inner fire
and wanting to beguile
To me, it said, "Stay awhile,
and dont go out into the day;"
but my hearts long-repressed desire
could brook no more delay.
I writhed and writhed within the tree,
until the essence of my being found its way
to summits of the ecstacy
With its pearls of the purest water dew
bestrewed my way,
as if to say,
"O what a glorious birth !
"The morning laughed its brightest hue:
the breezes blew in hymeneal mirth.
The nightingale heard from the rose
that I had thrown
away my own
primordial consuming flame.
It said, because this crowned its woes,
"He paid a heavy price to thrive. For shame !"
I now stand by,
my breast rent open to
the suns effulgence so
that it may set ablaze
again the fire of my