The Decadence of Paroxysm

What has one got in an ember

Without a flame, one cannot see

Foreboding winds fill November

But it is not a winter freeze

 

Why should I, in fear, abate

The breeze inside, not yet a gust

The twilight sky will my heart sate

Not simply an impending dusk

 

So I free my conflagration

Unravel in distempered squall

Blooming in deep red carnation

Coruscant in my cosmic hall

 

Then, all at once, my fires fade

These gales, no more can I sustain

In supernova, Heavens lade

But this one thing will still remain

 

In patient thaw, a flower blooms

The pyre reduced to cinder blush

The breeze will sing lethargic croons

Stelliform eyes, make my heart flush

 

Tame