A candle in a glass in the dark, its heat residual, the light bent, reflecting like blinking lashes. To
Be carried in the dark, to ward it off, though its coldness in your hands makes doubt mutter in,
The power of the candle cool in your hands.
This is your candle, it is your light, its warmth is a memory, not a lie, and its light is bright
Though corrupted and kept.
We make do with what light we can carry.
Trust in the power of fire, though its heat can only caress, not embrace you:
Yours is to embrace, your duty and pleasure and burden
To embrace those lost in the dark like teeth chattering still inside a dead mouth
To embrace those deep in the sun who have lost the touch, have lost the love,
Whose flesh is burnt out,
Who glow yet feel their shadows pooling at their feet,
A cigarette glowing towards destruction
Just like you.
- Creative
