The flame burns away eating its wick,

Tarnishing pure white wax,

The flame’s soft glow gently,

Illuminates the darkness,

Gives birth to what was unseen,

Not bound by the constraints of a surface,

The feeling--glowing,

Burns and is not bound by any physical thing,

Fills the nothingness, reveals what,

Was hidden by the cloak of black.

The flames harsh light, the bitter orange,

Sputtering and dying,

It bites the cold and fights for life,

In the bitter air, but grows,

Slinking, creeping,

Leeching the gentle dusk from its path,

Stretching out its tentacles and,

Revealing what disturbs the peace,

The polluting emotion destroying,

All that is in its path leaving,

Only ruin in its wake,

Tearing apart the innocence of the twilight,

Breaking into every mind.

The crisp paper,

Spreading out before me,

The soft whisper,

The blank white with not a single flaw,

A new beginning,

An opportunity to create anew,

To birth a creature all of my own,

The generous gift to be,

Able to give breath,

To something never existing before,

Never alive before.

Slashed starkly with black type,

Mottling the white like,

Veins on a pale wrist,

The curves waving into,

Marring blurs,

Taunting you with visions,

Of beauty out of reach,

Of death too far within reach,

Breathing mocking words,

Holding hidden thorns,

Sinking deep into the heart,

There to stay and never leave.

The sky circles above as a lady’s skirt,

Its endless pure silken blue frilled and swirled,

With wisps of downy cream.

It is the comforting stretch that,

Never leaves me behind,

A dream above the earth,

Brings me to meet it,

To share its looming strength,

The feel the light it gives and,

To share the unlocked freedom,

Overwhelming the heart,

Uniting all within it, under it.

The harmless sky with,

A glow of dawn just above the horizon,

Sweetly smiling on its victims,

Tearing them apart with its,

Vastness and eternity,

The depthless mass pulling me,

Into it and never letting go,

Falling through the cruel blue,

The bottomless pit,

That reduces all to nothingness,

all emotion into it and holds it tight.

The sky is impassive,

Tugging a bit one way,

Then perhaps a touch to the other,

Overseeing all,

The uninvolved spectator,

A façade of beauty covering,

An ugly heart,

It can never die,

Because it never lived.