Two gleaming gems. Like polished marbles from the Welkin’s riverbeds.
By day they hide, at noon they rest, and by night they glow in the lonesome bight.
Yet, by morning they’re gone, set with the moon, down horizons unknown.
Sparks from tinder, brilliant but short, fanned by the wind.
How bright they glow! How bright!
From the earth they come and back in they go.
The fire dies but the embers of love remain.
Warming the hearth on until another pair comes by to set alight…
The heart’s eye.
TIGGA TALES 