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Flame MAG
I watch this flame pass
from match to wick,
gently stepping over
a great divide.
This flame and I
are not so different:
it comes into being from nothingness;
it eats and grows, smokes, and rests.
It gets angry,
destroys homes,
consumes flesh.
Sated, it becomes calm,
retreats into coals,
smoldering through the night.
Domesticated
by a piece of string,
it makes its home in a cave of wax.
It chases the shadows away
and stands watch through the night.
It sways
and dances in the darkness
before it is extinguished
in the blink
of an eye.
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This article has 293 comments.
I used to be the same way but then I just went to GOd with my problems.
I liked your poem but it was gloomy
telling me that your mad and yourself and others for making your life a certain way.
but you can get away from that.
Know that you can make it through:)