Flower the pure paradox

Chaste chamber of stamens
Lustful hollow of circling thunder
Erupting yet devoid of all comings
Tongues of flame, cups of peace and glow
Grand glorious guises (sometimes hale and manifest)
Mate of nightly darkness, cohort of daily affairs
Nestled in a blizzard; lustful and bare beneath burning rays

Oh Flower! Oh pure paradox!
At once you rise, at once you fall.