Constant

Some hearts meander
willy-nilly beneath
hatching skies
where Griffins fly
                 and sing.
Some hearts are content
to sit at tended hearth with a smiling
fire, warm
and lasting, always
looking to the leaping flames, the satisfying glow of
low embers
and the occasional, incredible glory of a fast and high flair, bright because of constant
darkness it
                rises
from.


S. Nielson