Black Metal Stove
There is a fire in the stove,
black metal hot.
Spent so long in the cold outside,
I forgot what the heart hearth holds.
A dark weaving wind
whispered it's dreams to me
and I seemed to flee.
But still,
the wandering wynding
way came out before me
as if made to be by walking;
as though no path exists
until it is walked,
like the electron is a wave
until I wave hello.
But somehow,
this black metal stove,
radiating from a chamber,
burning on the inside,
is and always is,
was and always was.
But for the cold dark wynding way,
I'd never know it's warmth.
A place I could never come
until the darkness took me.
black metal hot.
Spent so long in the cold outside,
I forgot what the heart hearth holds.
A dark weaving wind
whispered it's dreams to me
and I seemed to flee.
But still,
the wandering wynding
way came out before me
as if made to be by walking;
as though no path exists
until it is walked,
like the electron is a wave
until I wave hello.
But somehow,
this black metal stove,
radiating from a chamber,
burning on the inside,
is and always is,
was and always was.
But for the cold dark wynding way,
I'd never know it's warmth.
A place I could never come
until the darkness took me.
Leave Black Metal Stove to:
Best Posts From James
We have not curated any of rahkingnikhar's posts yet. But you can encourage our curation team to review posts by visiting them regularly and by referring other readers. Because we give priority to frequently read content.