My Song

my song is that fire
that heats my self so
that my ego, my anger,
my lust, my attachment
are turned into ash

my song are proud
of my scruples
for they what other
purpose would she serve

She is that angel
on whose wings my souls sits
and flies freely the universe

ghosts of the pasts make a skeleton of me
and worries of the future burn me
I am either in a grave
or I am on my funeral pyre
my songs make my current moment's wonder alive

My song are my eyes
I am blind without him

My song are my ears
I cannot hear without him

She is the ship that
takes me across the ocean of fire

she is the umbrella
that prevents the silver rays
of winter rain to strike my head