A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words
• What I see : a candle flame
• What I feel : fleeting enthusiasm
Smouldering
Aflame with zeal,
Pump with desire,
Threatening to break out,
Violently rising,
Eating up the darkness,
With it's tears,
around the eyes of the flame,
And It's matter,
Sooth for the wick.
Dancing and wriggling,
Sway left and right,
Manoeuvering the hands of the wind,
The wind that smoulders.
And by and by,
The darkness closes in,
The blades of the flame,
Sliting to bluntness,
Fighting to stay aglow.
Sooner than later,
The flame is put out,
By the cold hands of the wind;
Darkness take center stage,
There dead silence comes alive,
Who knew light was so loud,
And it's absence louder.
The voices that speak then;
The voice of the taunting wind,
The screeching of the ghost of light.
Then glim hope,
Gleans at the ears of wit,
Seeking for a semblance of an ember,
to bring it's dying smoulder to life,
But by and by,
Gloominess casts it's shadows,
And the straw hat breaks the camel's back,
Is a Shadow's stare.
©TheUltimate