Photo by Jaelynn Castillo
You are not the flicker of a candle,
Thirsting for wax and wick.
Nor are you the pale light of the moon,
Waiting each day for the sun.
You are a star held by your own gravity;
You require nothing else to burn.
Note: This marks the hundredth post on this blog.
Photo by Alex Wigan
The spark of smiles
And innocent longings
Turned to a flame;
Deep red and pure,
Of passion and warmth, hopes and dreams.
As she watched the flame turn to harsh fire
That threatened to cremate the very love
Which it was built from,
Panic washed over her,
And she stood paralyzed,
Forced to watch the destruction all night.
The fire had burned without restrictions
And brought to light all good and bad.
She now surveyed the landscape of the hearts
Where residue flames still burned around;
Bright stars in ebony dark.
The venom had flowed out due to heat;
In rivulets of poisonous green. And the love?
The memory of the pure, red flame
Danced in front of her eyes
And she saw the light igniting far off,
As crimson sun broke the night.
Gaining strength from warming rays
She promised aloud to burn just as bright
And sent her word to the fiery being
With messengers of both lands still stirring;
Phoenixes, after all, are reborn from the ashes.
Photo by Chris Sardegna
She had so much spunk,
That she made oceans out of
The beads of perspiration
That formed at her head
When she looked ahead
At the series of lifeless days
That were coming.
As she acknowledged
The reality of what was to come,
She promised herself
That acknowledgement
Was not acceptance,
And that she refused
To passively wait
For days and months and years
For courage to arrive
And turn her life around.
She refused to simply look
Out of the windows
Of her cage-like dwelling
At the long road that led there.
She stopped waiting
To hear the doorbell
That would spring her into activity
And instead
Got to work herself.
Bracing herself for the tough task,
She started shaking the chains
That tied her to the weight
Of imagined obligations
That no one expected anyway.
The chains were hard to break
But at least they rattled
And betrayed the signs
Of inherent weakness.
For her, for now,
That was enough.
Photo via Google Images
But when I see in the mirror,
All I see is a dark lake, stagnant,
Unchanging; where all paths end.
No new roads, no new adventures.
I see no glimpse of the ocean,
That you assured me you saw in me.
No vastness, no depth, no voyages.
You say you see sunshine in my eyes,
Lighting up everything around.
But when I see in the mirror,
All I see is a fire, harsh,
Burning, destroying everything in its way.
I see no evidence of Life,
That you claim is hidden in my soul.
All I see is a black hole,
Where the whole of you
Would cease to exist.
Photo by Jon Sullivan (Wikimedia Commons)
The wait is endless.
The outcome no nearer in sight.
But the fears have fallen
On the way in the quest to get.
I stand impatiently
On the branching pathways.
Each road better and worse.
Each way beckoning and repelling.
I see broken shadows
Of desires; pent-up and hidden,
A lifetime of unspoken wishes
On the path that I’ve come from.
But I’ve come a long way
And the past is now
Nothing but that; past.
I look forward, restive.
The fierce fire burns within
The wake of passion
Has shaken off
The strings of vulnerability.
I am no longer afraid.
Unabashed, I am free to be.
As the fears have fallen
On the way in the quest to get.
The Writer's Nest 