A Metaphor

Seething,
rumbling with heat,
breathing,
becomes no easy feat,
for the basilisk craves light,
and will turn day,
to night,
as it consumes the stars,
and devours the moon,
all the while,
still hungry for you.

As the beast breaks his chains,
I bind you with yours,
as we work in tandem,
you on all fours,
made of light,
the hole in my chest,
envelopes you in night,
you become the sun,
getting hotter and hotter,
it becomes harder to run,
from the supernova,
completely undiminished,
by the light of my smile,
free of guile,
inviting thunderous moans,
echoing in the void,
and sighs light as a feather,
but slow down,
bridge may ice,
in cold weather.