Poetry can give an insight to the soul of the writer. Or the reader. Poetry can touch on the feelings you don't want to admit to, and those you wish you could celebrate. On life. On time. On what it is to be you.
Here's Pieces of Me, a poetic intros...
I watch the flames Falling into their crazed dance Lost in the fitful Frenzy
The world about Fades into shadow Fades to a memory Of substance now lost
I wish I was of air Life giver to the world Instead of a shadow Myself consumed
By the flames of my deeds The fire of my sorrow Burning my hopes Consuming my self
Once you were my flame Once you were my air Once you gave me life
But now there is only A candle aflame A pillar of wax At mercy to the fire
Melting away
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Loss and loneliness can be powerful things to cope with. Your entire world can seem as if it has disappeared, leaving only you and a fading point of light.
A candle's flame can be like that. It can consume. It can burn. It can destroy. Yet, it can give warmth when Life's chill eats into your bones. It can be the one bright thing in an otherwise bottomless darkness - even as it destroys that which holds it aloft.
Don't let yourself be lost to a light that can be so quickly extinguished.
