by Phillupus
Rome was never Rome
until virgins tended a communal fire.
A home is not a home
until a hearth is surrounded with love.
The dead are not free
until flames consume on the pyre.
The eyes cannot see
until the fire of light pours from above.
May we feel the live-giving warmth
that fuels all things from end to start;
May we recall that Vesta is
not merely hearth, but also heart.
neosalexandria 