A Fire On A Hill by Hands Like Houses
It starts with a spark, a breath and a moment of still,
A flicker, a glow, as the oxygen spills through a delta of spindles and stone,
Kindled from nothing in a whisper of smoke.
There a gift ignites; a cursive though takes flight,
And there's a dancer, twisting in between the spines.
Give her the breather's kiss, and watch her spirit lift,
She'll take over the stage, and take over the night.
Learning how to make a name from the words we can't keep in.
Learning how to strike a flame, and draw fire from nothing.
I don't know where to begin, to make the words take shape,
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