Satan Does Not Burn

i cut down a tree
and told you
this is firewood

immediately the warmth touched your skin
an idea of the summers sun
on a winter night

a book of matches
never struck

broken stove in the junkyard

your mind can do all sorts of amazing things
so can mine

but when i speak
sensitive thoughts paint over your eyes
and when i sing
melodies
and
metaphors
become lost in the labyrinth
of
your fear