Ashli
Movement I: The Flame
The Flame shining so brightly on the stage
Is a mystery that baffles the sage;
Who like fools, try to dissect perfection
And can’t just embrace the conflagration,
Perchance to rival the heart of the sun
Even though body and soul are undone.
But I wait with open arms to soon learn
What it means to be consumed sans concern
By the Flame.
Burn, Lady, burn.
Glow with the inner heat from your sure heart
That uniquely sets you fore’er apart;
The sun shining fiercely in the blue sky
Compared to a match that flares and soon dies.
Warm me in your glorious radiance
As you slowly spin your fiery dance.
The Flame, dancing beyond equal on stage,
Has caused desire to ferociously rage,
So that now my heart is a white hot fire
That has become the lit funeral pyre
Of my eternally lost detachment.
Thus I am merely the embodiment
Of a vast uncontrollable passion,
Ignited in pyrotechnic fashion
By the Flame.
Turn, Lady, turn.
You cause the very depths of my soul ache
With every exquisite move you make.
It’s more than mortal man can hope to take;
Causing control’s constraints to slip and break,
As you display your beauty, poise, and grace
With sweet supple body and haunting face.
Like a pilgrim after a dang’rous quest
Enjoys hard won respite and needed rest
As he worships in the blessed holy fane,
Giving heartfelt thanks with joyous refrain,
I stand in your nearly divine presence
Singing praise for your treasured existence
And ask for a cherished measure of grace
That I may fore’er have a special place
By the Flame.