He’s constrained but maintains a stoic decorum
He won’t scream when the flame deliciously burns
It’s an esoteric torture that tore him
Like a prophetic dream which constantly churns
The slow glow that stings – is buried in memory
In the place that knows no limits and no bounds
Yearning with a patience that lasts a century
Like orbits of moons that endlessly go round
The incessant fire bathes his soul and his mind
Every time his reverie lights up the skies
A wayward desire impulsive and inclined
Quickens the heart but quietly in disguise
This welcomed suffering in imagination
Is fuel for a more beautiful agony
It builds hopeless hope and anticipation
Leaving our dreamer lost in a fantasy










