The fiery vision

Poem by Marc Aupiais

I sense it as I walked.
Above. Above. I want to cry.
To look down. Avoid her gaze.
She sees through.
To the marrow.
To the bone.
To the molecular structure,
Of my moan.

Fire is the eye.
Or rather reflection.
An eaglet's sight.

Like rain I hear fire - on my soul.
Her vision burns me.
Makes me whole.

Inside I feel her soul.
Hidden in my room.
Curtains close.
I feel her see me.
All.

The vision. Looks at me.
Into my soul.

She searches me.
Into my entire whole.

Every crack every chasm.
Filled in me.
Every weakness check.
Filled with putty.
Burnt to ash.

And though she burns through me.
Eyes that see.

I ask of God for this.
My every sin.
For her to see.

My only heat.
She seathes through me.

She is soft.
And silently.

I wear her on my shoulders.
A fur coat.

And below her skirts I hide.
And peer out upon the world.

And though I burn.
Ash and fire.

She drinks my blood within my heart.

And senses my senses from the start.

Our souls intermingle.
We are one.

This fiery mare.
This Night time scare.

Who sees all.
Who knows all.

Who peers deep into the deepest depths of mine only soul.

And I wonder at the clock.
That once graced my wall.

Does it head from right to left!?
2 to one.