Woods are born to burn
They like moth
through themselves at the light.
They are fire from within,
Fire never abandons us,
as clarity would never, water
amidst all the pollution and filth.
Life is a stretch to firelessness, to pollution,
the individuating experiences of separation and lost,
cycles,
to past the midnights of crescents
becoming the full moon again,
Life is the search, the stretch, the outreach of lines,
like the fishes
to the seas of volumes.
I am he who makes you endure unjust
for you to learn just
in your guts.
I am the one who makes you lose
for winning is often more losing and bereaving
than lost.
Fire is the unity of all the combustibles
all drained waters awaiting to evaporate
embracing sun,
to return
back to crystal clarity.
