In fevered dreams come profane desires that quicken the flame I learned to keep low, lest it overtake me. For I have been burned, and singed others’ skin in return. So I stand before an ocean and kneel before Poseidon’s feet, to drown these embers of longing beneath the waves, holding them down with both hands in a place where they cannot scream. But they resurface, baptized in the wake, with blue faces and forgiving eyes. Mercifully, they lay siege upon my shore, and all my walls are now made of sand. All defenses laid bare by a patient sea, the heat turns the sands to glass as I gaze into the eyes of what I once thought of as an enemy. I hear their song now in my ringing ears; they tell me to fear the fire is to fear myself. As Aries heaves his mighty axe over all the stars above, I open myself for his bloodied blade. Unmake me. Forge me in fires not born of my father’s flame. Make me the sun and watch me shine.
Ian Gallows
3/21/2021