the Burning Bush

the Burning Bush

If fire does dispel my fear
Then I am Here:
Where matter teems and pulses
Disappearing in a sheet of flame.
My senses clear; I will remain.
The melting skies convey
A silent message to my heart.
The burning earth, where memory flies,
Assures me that I cannot die.
I stand in light, compounded
Of an elemental passion; pure:
Purposeful, and nowhere bound;
Departure now unthinkable,
No exit to be found.