If I dared to burn I wouldn’t be a candle.
A forest full of living flame,
a sun holding planets in close embrace—
distant races would feel my glow and populate their skies
with monsters and heroes.

If I dared to weep I wouldn’t be a raindrop.
I’d be typhoon-thrashed oceans of salt,
I’d be the Milky Way falling endlessly over dark-matter cliffs
only to be swallowed by hungry black holes
at the heart of the universe.

Dare to be stone. No pebble to be kicked
but a frowning mountain, aerie of eagles. Dare
to be the Perseids, streaking the nights of August
with burning dust. Dare to be Mercury in the arms
of Sol; Pluto in the arms of darkness.

If I dared to be dust I would be the birthplace of stars.
If I dared to love, Beloved
what could we be?