beyond burned

A heart is a mountain made out of wood.

With roots that stretch
to the depths of the earth.

And we hate and we fear
that we'll ever get burned,

as our heart stands,
inflammable, waiting
its turn. Waiting its test,

as an infinite fuel
awaits its birth.. 

It will burn forever and never run out.
The thing in my nature that makes me
your man, and leaves me no doubt,
is the end and all
of the things

That I am.

And it will not learn
nature dies,

but it will not learn.

beyond burned

A heart is a mountain made out of wood,
With roots that stretch
to the depths of the earth.

And we hate and we fear
that we'll ever get burned,
As our heart stands,
 inflammable,

waiting its turn. As an infinite fuel
awaits its birth.

Wander

Planets will shine with a steady light.
Too much in the sun to see anything
any less bright.

Stars will twinkle and wink at us,
because they know the universe 
is not empty. 

As dawn comes on, Venus 
is shorn of all her symbolism,
sure as this is Christmas morn.
And it is

cold.
But I
at least am warm
for this time of year, and
dressed to be born.

Is there anything left
to cross these vast gaps?

In a world made new each
year and night, where the star
you see twinkle so merrily,
easily - may have died
dead ages ago, and you
too will die.

Having hung your most desperate
wish upon it. Too late 

for either of you. 

Just take the light 
you get by eyes. 

Let the mind behind 
tie it bright to bind 
'til you wonder no 
more:

be a wanderer. 

You might as well may, 
as if 
you could see. 
Here's Venus 
again. 

Say hi to her.