take me

take me, take me like flame
would sear a summer-dry prairie.
past desires remain with us
like scars.

take me, take me, as soon
little will remain of me.
all lamps forbidden in this night,
no light is needed
to reveal your true self,
that you kept away from heat
for fear passion would burn your life
to cinders.

and I ask, would it not be better
at the very end,
to be a cinder
than just a dead piece of log
that's never been adrift?