Such a mystery is the way
Of the sun, burning up a crimson red.
For if only a laugh could extinguish
How flamboyant you are, he replies,
When sorrow rises in the gust of wind,
Blowing upon my face.
Open wounds burst into flames,
Transcending me a three-fold.
For I am nothing but the fury in
Your own heart.
(c) Copyright, Kiki Stamatiou, 2016