You are a rumor of the orange fire

You were found in a hole- a well so deep
that it quenched your cries to keening silence,

that the child just born didn't know you
until his face wilted with the greyness of many years
and his eyes squinted with the visions crystal
only in memory.

he had lain in summer grass, suckled at
the nectar of calla lilies,
slapped the sweet solid ground with pudgy fists,
delighted.

he had wallowed in the arms of casual seas, taken pleasure in
the bees and their dances,
slept quietly, perfectly, in groves of twilight shadow.

he had pinched himself to know the wonder of pain,
given himself freely to the sunshine and to the rain.

he was blissful, and then

Your faraway whispers caressed him, assaulted him,
compromised him.
You sought his advancement
and realized his downfall.

he grew and breathed a slow decline.