without the flames receding

she lay the blame on the wind for my scruffles and my scruples
while she runs her fingers through my hair
i watch the light pouring into her pores
revealing the raw power of the sun
she asks me how it burns on so
without the flames receding
and i remind her how the seas
they ebb on and they flow, wave
after wave, tide after tide, night after
day, and fullest moon after fullest moon
precisely in their dance, balancing each their illusions of spacetime

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