You lose your beauty

and the sky turns pink.

It’s not yours to lose.

What twists us in knots

keeps us,

an unholy marriage,

from the divinity shining

within our own eyes.

Who says what is beautiful,

he, she or he?

Meaningless judgments aimed

at raising one, at undermining another.

Recall the kindleless fire

and your heart will know none

but love threading song.