flows in the endless imagination to the arms
of a soul on fire, holding it with both hands,
inspired and devoted by its revelations,
burning flames one so desires,
in the script.
Stand still in the silence,
I can no longer control, I become weak,
I am consumed by the flames,
every piece put together with such craft,
I reach to fine the cure of this majestic expression
true to my fragile self.
Between the vision and my observing of what is,
I, being stripped, everything in the chambers of knowledge,
of a soul on fire,
passion comes, includes the echo of my longing,
clearly do I see,
of a soul on fire.
Comments about this poem (Beautiful Mind by Kasia Fedyk )
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