but what are we?
we who have found
the void in the golden middle
and wildfire at the core

and at the crossroads – no good choice,
like in that old Romanian fairytale

pebbles struck in the dark
kindled the fire
– here, the scent of fire in our palms

are we then dragons
who have fed on words of fire
and have opened a thousand eyes

yet there’s only one way given
for us to see

through a lens, the flame
rugged and silky
that envelops us