I am touching the ashes.
And the tips of my fingers are burning.
Even tears that drop on the burns don’t soften the pain.
Those moments of passion
Those moments of madness and yearning
And the love we invented from nothing…
I hope it’s passing… I hope it’s passing… I hope it’s passing…
And I hope it’s setting me free… and I hope in vain.
Photo: crater of a volcano on the isle of Java, Indonesia
This poem has been selected for a British anthology "Speaking Of Love", Forward Press