Fire and Water


Water is life,

but not all life

is water.

Fire burns in the sky,

much from the same vein

as blood falls from.

What great elixir!

The mesmerizing

forked tongues of flame

that course across the eyes

and quicken hearts.


Each syllable that quits the mouth,

a drop of rain

upon this parched ground.


With each word

thunder bolt ignites

the dead fall

that has piled up

for ages.

These eyes

are but receptors.

This mouth,

wide, dry, and yearning.

Every spitfire word

feeds us,

as our lungs cry out

for new air,

thick now with ozone.

The clouds gathered

across our brow,

and now

we reap the storm.

Louder now,

once scattered droplets

tumble out

in a torrential downpour.

Water in the eyes.

Fire behind them.

Soliloquy smoldering

and flaring high

with every breath drawn.

What end to this?


Oh, most certainly!

But with the deluge

and the conflagration

the temple is rent,

a new keystone must be laid.


No holding back.

The breaking of the heat

that has oppressed our summer.

There was no recourse,

for this

is how life renews.

Fire and water,

all at once,

or not at all.

Each one on its own

heralds the destroyer.

As we shelter

in the small spaces,

the cacophony outside

bears us

to relinquish

our own fears.

Draw down

every sprite and sheet.

This is the end,

of that,

we are certain.

The words that come

once night falls

will echo

in the crystalline empty.


we will speak a light

into existence.

New fire in the sky,

and fresh water on the ground.



DJR – 2023

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