From Ashes to Fire

The warm fire did not go out. The warm fire hid its shining seeds under the ashes of my dreams. Creatures, objects, times, one after another, lined up, they come: the playful cat swishes its bushy tail over my hand. The unruly stalk of wheat glides over my shins. The shining wings of the honeybee tickle my ear. Drops of dew from the needle of the pine fall on my tongue. The teeth of the comb dance on my bangs, the shoelace, come undone, runs after me. Magic moments, from the time to come, emerge: the future has opened its umbrella over my rainy present moment. Your lips kiss the mark of the rawhide on my skin. The soft palm of your hand glides over the bruises on my knee. Fluid drops of honey, from beside the full hive, fall into the mouth of the ant... From the depths of the future you come forth. A slender flame comes to life, comes out from the curtain of cold ash, takes on the color of a torch. The dream of your caressing hands grows in my being. I want your embrace. I call your name. The heavy chariot of the invisible gods I throw off my shoulders. Your hands come out of the curtain of fog, remove the bonds from my wrists. I stand on the roof of the chariot. I take hold of your arm. I have come close to you, closer than eyelid to eye. You sing in me with the breath of the whole wheatfield. The links of the chain fall away, the chain falls away. Sweet, abiding moments have come out of the depths of time, without past, without future, they have lined up forever beside the white lines of the notebook, on the tongue of my pens. The ear of the wheat sheaf you glide over my thighs... Seeds of fire on the ashes...