The rim in the wheel of love
Never has it been the hub
It is here and there
A well and a pump
And loving is so slippery
I hang on to my rapture
Of being helped by hidden hands
By those who are in the field of my bliss
I only to follow
The thread of the hero path
Through the way
From Gafat to Meqdela
There, I shall find a god
Whose deeds can set me up
He who owns my life-giving elixir
An elixir that I had once
A realm of myself
I, out of Amniotic fluid
A little water creature

I am that
Whose mother died in child birth
Or motherhood is no more his wheel of fortune
A giving over of oneself to the life of another
I left with the man
Who goes after the fire
And returning with that boon
Is his essential quest

Do I doubt such a man?
I am afraid, Yes
The man is the fire theft
He goes not for the Blacksmith horse
but to his Saddle
And a saddle resembles that of a womb
A womb evokes my pity
yet I don't know where the hero rides
Aganist what he lurks

Only A word of him, I can say
That he is Meyesaw, the rest is
Following the lure of fire
Into a range of forest
That I have never been before

What else can I fall in love with ?
The blacksmith of Gafat people are
in the habit of Santa Claus gift
And their European horses serve Queen Victoria
Whose kingdom adventure ended
In the making of Sevastopol
When the fire theft stole the Saddle

So what is like to be in love?
If it is not life-extingushing affair
To follow one's bliss is far more than
The rescue of Gafat from Capitivity
or treating its engineers and Blacksmiths
To follow one is with a command
That sent from above
or a word within meyesaw
The love of the fire theft
That would transcend a fire-extinguisher
To a Fairy-tale of suffering

—–////—-

By Andinet Melaku  ( a servant of meyesaw)

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