Dancing Wings

A pillar of fire
In the woods is burning
Consuming nothing
Blackening nothing.
There is a pillar of flame
Inside the wood.
Within a river it’s residing
Of swollen molten glass it’s sliding;
Its appearance, shifting,
Houses countless souls combining
Over amber, crimson, violet cascading
Violent hues of color purifying.
Fluid: sinking, rising, sinking;
They sink to float
And rise to fall.
Like faerie folk fascinating
The hungry human viewer.

In waltzes’
Endless emanating
A hundred hundred partners
One other entertaining
An other entertaining
Another entertaining.

Glass slippers they are dancing
Until they fall carousing
As they lose their standing
A social prancing prating;
Their liquid wings loose letting
Their surface sings, tremoring,
Of shackles they’re unshackling.
Bliss is radiating
Off wing-beats undulating;
Their faces–joy embracing,

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