I drowned in words
words, words and shouts
that poked holes into my being
that tore away my skin
revealed the fires and the lava
seething in my hands.
And when the fire and the dark collided
and trunks of trees
were covering my way
a little sparkling dot of living fire
was there, and moved, and ceased.
I beg for nothing
but a bit of silence
so the volcano inside me
I'd rather be as free as living fire
adventurously follow fireflies.