Wasted sweetness

I am surrounded by nothing on all sides.
I am running toward the fire.
The fire runs from me.
Mountains beyond mountains.

Please cut the lights.
Somebody's god is untamed.
Please somebody... explain yourself.
Why you are here, for example,
or maybe something like: Why am
I here? But that becomes trite, becomes a hold full of water,
and all the good and the bad that entails.
On the one hand: water something like fresh.
On the other: possible disease.
Between my hands there is air
between my hands there is sweat
between my hands there is sweet.