Flames fanning,
Pans dark with age,
Burning—coals sparked to crimson,
Golden tar browned by ancient suns,
Bronzed tarmacles,
Flames of a sword,
Star-trek of a warrior,
Through our times.
We cry, we laugh,
We worked, we talked,
Our flames fanning,
Our hearts gasping.
We search with our eyes,
Our minds as if drunk,
Heavy with age,
Yet light as gray.
These flames that fanned,
The light of our fame—
We too must learn the rhythm of fate!
