the cause of my dreaming is not so much a wind
nor a name carried by the breezes
not the sound of the sea breaking upon cliffs
sometimes i think the earth is not my home
for what drives me is fire
not from some infernal realm, but as like seraphim
which being translated, are the “burning ones”
and something greater than me is in me
for i will see this to some end
how cataclysmic i cannot but guess
though something short of an apocalyptic blaze
but if the world catches fire: it was me
