Burnt Words

The lines of poetry twist and turn,
A maze of words untouched, unturned.
Each golden drop of sunshine burns,
Every word as ashes leave, blurred.
Burning inside, outside, deep and dark,
A miracle of nature, it is unseen.
In seeing what is absent and missing,
One reinvokes joys of living.

Seek the sight of blind reverence,
Of dedication and promise of life in vivid dance.
The sight gives you...watchglass,
As each flamed glow of morsels is 'catched'.
The other side of the burning words,
A mirror is formed of murky absurds.
In totality the burning is cherish,
When form it renounces, pleasure bounces.
A pleasure in blindness, in burnt words,
In silent hearts...in silent worlds.