the glass blower

sit in the fire.
still.
naked.
fragile.
innocent.
like glass
waiting
to be blown;
when walls
grow soft,
yet defiant,
decanting the world
in their skins,
holding the pain and joy
you could not pour,
nor keep;
when goblets
become bubbles
growing in thin air,
rising and falling
into the flames
of what held them,
what grew them,
without,
within.