Liquid fire scorches my wondering, steady sight:
molten gold burning a fuming, heady delight
spilling through black-webbed branches
smooth copper pools of amber trances
flaring burnt heat through the dark.  Burnished
radiance torches the heart, glancing light furnishing
the mind with incantation.  There the gods dwell,
and below, all our baseness is hollow, truth a spell
still dancing as it dies.  Lord of Life and Light:
bright sphere far from our small lies, small strife.
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