I keep burning: A poem 

It is the autism of will 

I keep turning like a drill 

from valley to high hill 

always unshackled still 

A prison cell can’t discipline me 

My convictions are like zebras, free 

In the stony passages of Zion 

I keep shattering pillars like Samson 

I keep churning like earth’s weather 

traversing farthest lands 

I pirouette like a feather 

in a stubborn but brave wind’s hands 

I keep the fire burning 

and it is as if from the stars  

descended to the ground 

to fight for paradise all around