The Fire We Are

The spark
Of the world
Is a child’s eye,
The want to make.

We are flames
Of a fire we feel ,
But cannot fathom
Because we are the fire.

There is
No such
Thing as
A noun:

Only
Cliche
Gone
Cliche.

The oak moves the oak's dance,
The cloud floats a cloud’s dance,
Each and every atom of a puddle
Stomps the symphony of a puddle.

We dance our fire.
We dance ourselves.