I write to bear witness;
to sense then speak in ink,
my open soul splintered
that you may drink
my depths, my dreams
sink in crisp white sheets,
as limb-tangled lovers
live forever in a moment
immortalised for all time.
For all time is transient,
impermanent, impervious
to our masquerade of mastery,
passed in the flash
of eyes locked in ecstasy
and the essence of excited atoms
luminescent in the candle in your hand
held high to drip shadows:
it shines this night.
This night,
in light of the knowledge that
knowledge is not my possession
to be hoarded or hidden
as hand guards flame,
lest it wane, extinguished by exposure,
but a burden to bequeath
and be received as heat;
the beat of one heart committed to another,
its sting quickens skin
yet this miracle of learning
soothes yearning, a balm
to the deepest longing deep within.
Let it sing of a life.
A life at life's threshold
bears lessons
not lessened by release,
but freed.
What legacy we leave
we weave into stories
to whisper in ears.
Our years, measured no more in fear
nor tears, but flair
as we tear up the rules of society;
we burn down and dance on the grave of propriety.
In place of its patriarchal construct:
a bright new page.
Our rage will rebuild a world
where age-old pain and shame
are quenched by connection,
and compassion in action
with words of pleasure and hope,
our breath on flame not laced with hate;
love shapes her name.
I write to bear witness
to make sense of the life of this soul;
that when I go, her embers yet glow.
Though my name be long lost from the tongues of men
My heart will remain, fired in Ink and Flame.
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