Kindred How? Poem by Dawn Novus

It is the lifeblood
The desserts end
The satiated scorched earth
The air under soaring wings
Time or deed do not alter
Sonnet of bluest passion
Mine dear to heart
Heart dear to mine
Chandelier of each touched time
Lights bright the festive hall
Where thieves and sinners dine
Along with saints and holy men
And each and together
Must come down on their knees
To tip hat to beatify such fashion
Preference of each not touched
No, touched is the deep raw place
Hidden within
Keeps fire in the flame
Just under the exhale of put out candle
Its pretty, its pretty
In the night