Messiah
Words are sparks
falling from lips;
smouldering, glowing.
The messiah touches each edge of our night with his mouth.
Heart is flame
unwinding through the dryness,
cursive, licking.
The messiah enters the space created by the people moving back.
He looks up,
his eyes are flakes of burning paper
floating in dark.
The messiah speaks quietly and the people turn to listen
until darkness is lit.
They are fire,
and the world is wood and tinder.