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It has dug its own altar
In it’s wax earth
Before I even light it
The wick is black and bent
Burned but still suffering
Head-low with the heavy expectation of flames
No wonder it curls;
The flame goes up
Strict but full of loose tension
The wick eye shows an ember tear
The flame rises uncaring of limits;
Fire takes the most chances.
It sways with the motion of my thoughts
And like that could eat them.
I lean in-
What thoughts has it already taken?
I lean in-
Submitted on 2011-01-12 14:31:31
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2: I dunno...
4: Pretty cool
||| Comments |||
my mind is black and bent, but new thoughts flame and rise as high as they want to...even as i suffer the pain again and again...
candles are resilient until the wax is totally used up...the heart is resilient too..but perhaps sooner or later, it too is used up...
so while it lives...it must jump to the sky as high as it can...know no bounds....
| Posted on 2011-04-03 00:00:00 | by
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