You, child of fire, are able to transcend

all these years to arrive now in my dream

as my sister, mother, teacher and friend.

I am the worst of sinners, blaspheme

on two legs; everything is just questions

with no answers. The poorest of fortune

tellers can trace my doubts in you, the ones

reserved for all Christian, Jewish, Muslim

faith. And still you come. You and I; without

bodies, only fire, only your lips, kiss

on kiss, on mine. Like burning ash; drifting

and then fusing together. Let my doubt

be a song I sing from that day to this.

I burn, child of fire. Yes, I am burning.