Wherefore must I wear a mask when
I hold in my hand, the pen
wherewith I write poetry with fire?
How I long to discover the secrets
that are hidden
in the theater before me;
to behold the movement of tiny, metal
particles, as they waltz and interlock
in a world within a world;
as they pirouette between the boundaries set
by the fire which frees them to move.
Oh, Lord in heaven! Why are not
human eyes made
to see this wonder directly?
Must I always hold this dark glass before me?
Hark! He causes my heart, to see
the mystery!
The metals are assaulted, by electric energy,
carried by heaving, heavy wires. In a molten flash,
I see the crystals breaking, and sighing;
the silent order of the solid surface, giving way
to rushing, hotly-radiant tides
that crash together like waves at a beach.
It swirls before me, an intricate
dance
which I cannot see, but yet feel inside.
I delight to caress the molten
piece
in my heart.
It is inside of me, and I am inside of it.
I slowly feel over and underneath
the hot liquid surfaces.
I move into its every contour, and through
the whole of it.
Bodies of metal, which once were
separate;
the boundaries are fading.
It swirls and whirlpools within me-
It is all blurred now, caught
Into a quickly-freezing body of what once
was separate, but now is together,
a single piece.
a Sunfire weldor...
© 1997 Sonia Balcer
Webmaster: Sonia Balcer, (sonia@pacificnet.net)
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Last Updated: Oct. 10, 2000. Created: Nov. 07,
1997.
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