They came for love, and love has made them burn
and roar and spin and tremble. Watch them burn

like candle flames the size of mountains. Turn
and turn again against the drums and burn

like solar flares, like tiger-eyes. They yearn.
They struggle, they surrender, and they burn:

a brilliant sillhouette, a feather-fern
of smoke across a staring eye, a burn-

ing scar, a crescent moon, the milky churn
of galaxies that spin and shout– Praise God!– and burn.