Photo by Eirik_van_hoegee
Prayer #68: Flaming
The black-clad leaders teach us of an evil
Housed in flame and wrapped in molten ash --
A spirit so engulfed in sin, the light
Around it never penetrates.
Just dies.Yet black-clad leaders also teach of good
That's carried in swift flight on avian back --
A spirit so essential, that its core
Must manifest in purest, whitest flame.
I stretch my palms toward both. I feel the scorch.
A miracle -- or curse? -- they burn the same.
Deceptive choice, these tongues. So warm to touch,
Seductive and beguiling ...
But I pause
And look instead at their reflections.
On one wall, nothingness. Infinite blank.
But on the other ... I see my shadow.
Imperfect at first cast, yet tempered as
The light evolves.
In it I see my chances,I leave my palm outstretched.
There I see my possibility,
And with each lick I am more certain
That burns from this absorbing heat
Will heal, not wound -- will not deny, but give.
I choose.I live.