The Touch of Fire

Fire lures me
Like a seductive dancer
It twists and turns on itself
Wanting to have me tempted
By its show
As to have me engulf myself in it!

Why, burning brightly together
We would surely catch the attention
Of that power which ruled both of us,
That same one,
Compelling fire to burn and to consume
Compelling me to live and yearn to be consumed by it!

Fire pulls at my arms
Touching me sensually
Gliding its palms all over my body
Arousing me,
Bringing me to fly on ecstatic clouds
Bidding my soul to play high tones of pleasure
And my heart to pulse with the expectation
Of what shall come when I shall be disintegrated!

And I, like a wilting plant,
Thirsting for a drop of water,
A drop which not even the skies are thrusting upon me
Deeming my thirst to be surely too shallow
Too superficial
A drop, though,
Which I need to survive
A drop,
Which I see in the sensual dance of fire
A drop to which I turn to
Awakened, melted, lost,
Lost, in that moment of Existence
Which bids the human perception to feel itself
As being crazy
For what it gives defies all credible notion
Of factual matter as we know it!

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