There is a part of me,
Which in simple truth, is divine,
However small and subtle it may seem,
I know it is the vital spark of me,
And It is what has grasped hold
Of all the good I have seen.
I will not rest till this little spark,
Deems it safe, to a light fires in my heart,
And so, with patience, I gaze on.
With the sole aim of seeking After it,
That one day, it may turn, from being a little light,
To a raging, all encompassing, inferno, of joy & peace.
Yet with Flames that do not burn, but heal,
Fire that is not hot, but brings warmth,
A storm, but coherent.
And desired when understood by anyone & all.
This I promise myself, will be done,
Sooner than I may dream.
Every spark, purposeful, every moment, part of a dance,
This tiny little source of sparks in me,
Will have its way at last.
And every monstrous, crude and hateful thing,
Shall at last, at last, be overcome.
Yes. there is a little part of me, and within that part
Another smaller part, a part which is divine.
In truth, without lieing, a part so utterly sublime,
That no word may match it, and no one may catch it,
Earth of the heart,
Anagrams of one another, deepest & highest,
Both mean the same, To this sacred little mysterious flame,
A part eternal, a piece, in the peace, of time, alone.