The Fires Poem by Jorge Alexandre

I hold and hold;
Thy hate against thines heart;
And if one is knocked;
The other; dies.

No matter how I hold thee;
Or how thy soul outgrows desire,
There never was or will be;
Weeping; weeping, near the fire.

Leave all fear behind thee,
And take thy soul from out the breast,
And thy heart should do what others must,
To work for greed; for lust; regret.

Bow your head and rest with thine,
I must; I must, until the fires die.