The warm and sweltering days of summer
wind a hot path down the back
of this year's shimmering scales -
a message in the final light
of evening's flickering glow.
Pulsing, it washes away
violent thought replaced
by deconstructed release.
No woman nor man immune to
ejection of coronal surface.
Pure and cleansing.
Where to are the masses
ever moving in
concrete divided aisles?
Welling force dictated as a
collected breath exhales
in infinite expulsion.
They melt together solitary fixture
as one movement.
Many into single instance as
Music floats above
the haunting wind.
No sound rises higher than this
hefted movement.
Refuge comes only in sacred houses.
Soul's construction arched
crossing expansive void.
Icy flow emanating certainty
wherein constant is the fatal flaw.
We carry no weight in wage.
Hanging by fine thread
we think that as
the war turns around us
our houses protect, shelter, give.
In the sun.
Yet microcosm to microcosm
the line jumps from outside to in.
And war is found charging,
heating,
fueling
what we had thought
from which our protection was borne -
That cool cauldron of the body's temple.
And there can be no hiding
from core's ignition.
Once our soul has been set ablaze.