Melt When Not Even Gods' Fingers Touch. Poem by Mark Heathcote

Your souls like un-clarified butter
It needs to melt be put to the fire
Glow like an amber cinder
Ready to explode sparkle its gold
But yet remain whole in its mould.

Your soul needs to cudgel open your head
And leap ten steps ahead of you
Your soul needs to expose a new channel
That flows unheeded through your heart
And like clarified butter smoother you.

With syrup sunrays—let it surround you
Let it bathe and rinse right through you
Till all the sun and the stars
Are reflecting and refracted through you.
Be the honey all bees want to set to wax.

Melt when not even Gods' fingers touch.