Flame

I see darkness.

I smell the staleness of it.

It indulges my wings,

as they slice through it forever and ever.

I mock the darkness,

pretending to lose myself,

tempting the spider’s web,

only to emerge unscathed.

I live off the darkness.

I despise the darkness.

I see light.

A dancing flame. It bewitches me.

I smell the seduction of its smoke.

The flame envies my wings,

tied as it forever is to the wick.

I want to go closer.

I must go closer.

I swoop by closer,

and there – inside the flame –

I see myself, more dazzling than ever before.

You and I, says the flame,

have always been meant to be.

I want to go closer.

I must go closer.

My wings catch fire first.

Every nerve screams in agony.

I welcome the pain.

For a moment, I am the flame.

For a moment, the flame reaches beyond the wick.

For a moment, eternity is ours.

And then…

A longing.

An annihilation.

Darkness.

Dead poetry.