not in clinched fists,
not beneath burning armor.
May this hand be a hearth.
A place for my flame to burn.
A place to radiate from.
This is what fire needs.
May my warmth nurture,
may my warmth not overpower,
may my warmth fuel,
may my warmth dance, again.
not in clinched fists,
not beneath burning armor.
May this hand be a hearth.
A place for my flame to burn.
A place to radiate from.
This is what fire needs.
May my warmth nurture,
may my warmth not overpower,
may my warmth fuel,
may my warmth dance, again.
a hug, a handshake, a look.
The warmth rages now,
Looking for a place to take root,
Where can heat go that it cannot reach?
We are men taught to fear tenderness,
to trade warmth for armor.
But this armor still burns.
The heat contained looking for a way out.
a hug, a handshake, a look.
The warmth rages now,
Looking for a place to take root,
Where can heat go that it cannot reach?
We are men taught to fear tenderness,
to trade warmth for armor.
But this armor still burns.
The heat contained looking for a way out.