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The Fire Yearns to be Lit
In library halls
where the sweat of knowledge
hangs thicker than plague flies
and the clocks know everything
In cloisters etched with ivy
where nuns feed the sigh of winter
and embrace it
with willing invisible hands
On the frozen lake
where a child drowned
and the fish escaped
to fight another day
Through mountain clouds
where a meteor hit
In the field of sheep
where a plane came down
for those who lived
and the ones who die
a poet
needs to try
because the fire always yearns
to be lit
where the sweat of knowledge
hangs thicker than plague flies
and the clocks know everything
In cloisters etched with ivy
where nuns feed the sigh of winter
and embrace it
with willing invisible hands
On the frozen lake
where a child drowned
and the fish escaped
to fight another day
Through mountain clouds
where a meteor hit
In the field of sheep
where a plane came down
for those who lived
and the ones who die
a poet
needs to try
because the fire always yearns
to be lit
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