don't even touch the ground

Here it is, my heart, propped up on this candlestick.

See it sway in the whispers? How it bows down before the milky dew of our goddess moon?

I’m following you, dear heart. Though you tend to spark far and then near again. Though with some frantic regularity you threaten to cease entirely, to burn out for lack of or for too much inspiration.

I am loving, burning, holding up your light to mine and hoping to turn around to find a bonfire .

Here we go again. Once more we jump over the firepit. Once more we close our eyes and follow you through the sooty haze. What sweet green magic grows through this ash that pools at our feet. What a miracle to be born all over again.