Shakti

*Guru*

With your shrill stare,
I wonder if it was the scorching sword
or molten fire, from your eyes that poured
You chauffeured me
across seas of pain and bliss.
My parched mouth made no sound.
Only silent crevices of inside roared.
No longer were you music but stormy fire-dance.
Your charring heat, bleeding into every inhalation
I housed.
The deadly venom you soaked my breath with, I shall feed on now.
To burn myself up before I burn myself out.

-LA