The disconnect of fire

How goes the desire through the thrush of things now when the tide is ready to succumb
to the unruly, the unkempt, the unwished for unholyness? Will the flame be tempered by
the iron laws of matter or will it be madness? How goes this ascetic dance, this call of
conscience fired up by seeds of the unknown reveling in a confidence that does not become
the calm sea but more so the torrent which the sea beckons? Does the sea indeed beckon
this torrent or is a mere fleck of disconnection, disorientation that misguides as it continues?