Dweller of Our Heart
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Written: August 02, 2025,
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There is a palimpsest etched in our bones,
Our dyspneic fire, a palingenesis hone—
A solar sprout rising from the slough of the soul,
Not just a flickering flame, but fleshy and foal.
It rushes through the usufructuary veins,
A specter donned in radiant aurific chains.
It had no furnace to evolve this flame—
It arises to life under the pounding maim.
Neither a faraway star nor a volition spire,
But breath coruscates with fervent desire.
We are the sun at the zenith of disguise—
The dawn dances across our cyanotic eyes.
Despite distrust and twilight, it remains,
In quiet windstorms and supple refrains—
A burning ember carved into every cell,
It shines brightly, unaffected by shellac spell.
It flickers fiercely when faith feels hollow,
It fifes softly beneath the paths we follow.
Even sadness, cloaked in velvety night—
Sparkles warmly in the peaceful light.
No glass can confine it, and no grave can dim,
The solar spirit thrives vibrantly and can swim.
We don't chase the flames that flicker above—
For as its bearers, we embody an empyrean love.
Let the lips express what limbs may forget—
The rising sun and spirit that entwined never met.
They merge and bend such reflections in a stream,
Genesis, devoid of direction, is brimming with dreams.
And when the stars falter to recall our names,
The light inside will always blaze the same—
Not searching for the sky, nor fearing the fall,
Realizing we are clay stewed by flames after all.
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