Like a music box with fire inside
Desire, waits, then springs open
Unhinged
The dancer comes loose, and
Swirling through flames
Finds her maker
And things are never the same
We are afraid of desire
For when it burned unarmed, unmanned
It brought wrath
It harmed self and all else
It was unruled then.
But what if, desire itself
Were baptized by love
And came up pure as a dove,
Or a dancer clothed in incense. Then,
Pure desire would walk the wire only
To heaven, and say, breathlessly,
“God’s desire is the only hinge
Holding history!”
