Flame Will Rise

From Oral Tradition

I.

the fabric lies upon the maze 
cast from my gaze
     deeply true to its bright blue

beyond its patch the path wonders
pondering a farewell of the crescent shape
     deeply true to its dark wound

each step—a wondrous feat
from earth's hearth births heaven's room
     deeply true to its flesh cool

the middle kind
a liminal smile

between the lefts—
     roll onto hard jagged knew
between the rights—
     dive under wet tithes' knew

there is no time to wait
     for ego's rise
           or
to swim for grim
     ebb time

II.

here lies the wind
who grins to 
extinguish fire

when did the strike ignite
     in courage
mint could freshen the blow?

there are no new or old stories sole
      why won't lies everbear?
missing pieces have long grown souled
     in a new uncertain body
     
the blue is truth's hue
the pain left on ebb

why won't these faces face me?
what more can I say?
what more will they mine?

it's time to flee
     before my faze reveals
my gaze fears their pain
     its birth formed from lies lent

a carriaged fossil made to spine
a dire sight
      for a pair of fresh ire

my life's lover awaits
      without cackle or scorn

wrapped as God's gift
     in cornflower blue