A wavering glow of yellow heat and light
is cupped against the breeze in sheltering hands,
a glow that softly lights the hands and face
of one whose will has brought the flame to life.
A pool of hot desires collects inside
the walls of solitude, encasing gold.
Submissive aching, building liquid passion,
the trembling lust of inner fire withheld.
Wet licks of scented flame escape the walls
as, tilted by its owner, firmly held
the candle spills itself in drops of blood,
and salty tears, drawn out by will of One.
Turned over -- crackling flames erupting strong
in fire that melts its being to your will,
submission to the hand that claims the soul
of slave in parrafin and cotton wick.
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