Flickerings

Sun,
insatiably in combustion;
our best metaphor
of that eternal blending:
being.

I Am
but one of billions of strands
of the same growing shape
that startles darkness.

We hang together
center of the core,
there we melt,
for opposites attract.

Fire and ice,
they blend as we do,
somethings into nothing,
into something else again.

Such meetings are flickerings;
they light up life.

© 2010 by Elisabeth Eliassen