(mythic / distilled version)
Outside: -34°C.
Inside: the leaning body
before the hearth
Birch from ancestral forests
opens its stored sun.
Heat takes my legs in hand,
my feet in polar wool extend
toward flame
The house is paced,
sounded,
claimed
by two silver presences –
siblings, miraculous,
measuring what lives
Fire:
solar matter carried through mute space,
grown slow in white trunks,
now loosed –
disciplined, contained –
in the heart of the room,
on the hill
It murmurs.
Clicks.
Crackles
its brief laws
of warmth,
of survival
under stars
My eyes enter the dance.
My ears lose themselves
on the stove’s small stage
Fire thinks.
Time is forged
I lift The Ambiguous Human
and am carried –
not reading,
but being survived
by flame and dream,
while cold space presses close,
circling the house,
persuasive,
eternally void
Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin
Read 27 times
Written on 2026-01-11 at 12:36
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Hans Ruin & The Fire (II)
Outside: -34°C.
Inside: the leaning body
before the hearth
Birch from ancestral forests
opens its stored sun.
Heat takes my legs in hand,
my feet in polar wool extend
toward flame
The house is paced,
sounded,
claimed
by two silver presences –
siblings, miraculous,
measuring what lives
Fire:
solar matter carried through mute space,
grown slow in white trunks,
now loosed –
disciplined, contained –
in the heart of the room,
on the hill
It murmurs.
Clicks.
Crackles
its brief laws
of warmth,
of survival
under stars
My eyes enter the dance.
My ears lose themselves
on the stove’s small stage
Fire thinks.
Time is forged
I lift The Ambiguous Human
and am carried –
not reading,
but being survived
by flame and dream,
while cold space presses close,
circling the house,
persuasive,
eternally void
Poetry by Ingvar Loco Nordin
Read 27 times
Written on 2026-01-11 at 12:36
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
