It Is Not Fire

The fire in me
derived from stones,
will dance
and sway
as they blow me away,
will still be still
for those who deserve
what's beyond my hills,
will melt your crystal whites
as long as you're near,
every tongue
every mouth
everything
'til my fire burns out

The fire in me
will warp in your mind
the frost 
to a soft
warm oblivion,
will not be there
as the moon disappears,
can't always hold
the ashes and coals
and the wood
to wet to consume

You put on your cloth
on your dewy skin,
for your body is of flesh
weaker than the strongest walls
built on sand,
you turn from left to right
and see the blots of red on skins
pain coming from the heat
of the fire's apostasy

You see
it is not fire that burns us
nor that keeps us alive,
it is everything
that it desires to touch
more than too much
than nothing