RUSTING
Fire is a spirit,
crackling vibrations,
sirring catalyst;
force and energy
of the midday sun.
I raced over
mountains, caressed
hairs of strong
forests and rolled
over balling rivers.
But this dour
fluorescence Is a
used canister
rusting to dust
where doting memories
of the midday sun
lazy along the silver
line into the
grove of silence.
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