I built fires that burned me,
Molding flames like wild clay
In forms that began in dreams
—fires that scarred my flesh.
I tamed the fires to fall asleep,
But might is in its fiery mane,
Roaring fiercely onto my face
As I trembled down in terror.
Turbulent flames embraced me
In raging petals of marigold,
Doubts turned into ashes,
And so the fires stilled.
As it burned bright as citrine,
Fires taught me listen
In the darkness where it sprang
—raging from my unknowing soul.
Must Read: The Fire I Didn’t Have
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© 2019 Onie Maniego and The Paper Drafts