Fire and Gold

Our two hearts are like this ancient room,
each is a labyrinth of silence and pain.
As one can burn, the other heals all doom
Lowering the sky so clouds become ground.
Ground that births gold, diamonds, flowers that bloom,
each becomes the origin of its becoming.
Like stone and earth, gold and fire, house and a room.
Some houses wear roofs but are wet by rain
and some fires make gold like some sticks becoming a broom.

Ruddapoet Rudolph