Beneath The Fire.
No tempest can poetry rise,
Where the heart reduces into a stone,
No stirring spirit can break the inertia,
Where carnal desires moan.
Inflection from conflict,
And psychic-fermentation from Ego's whims,
Eats away, eats away the soul's cream.
Suffering by service, and receiving wounds,
Amidst uncertainty bestow crown,
For, love by nature is dedication of spirit,
A nowhere in nowhere brings the bliss.