The flame, it burns.

There’s fire in us,

A solemn candle light,

Burning meekly,

Fighting against the wind,

Fighting against water,

Fighting with itself.


Inside the flame,

Deep inside,

In its center,

There’s a heart,

A pulsating, blue heart,

A heart that’s dark,

A heart that flickers,

A cold heart,

A black heart


This heart casts a shadow,

Minuscule and wanting,

Gloomy and lost,

As if seeking someone,

Or something,

Of unknown value,

Or known

Yet forgotten


It has desires aplenty,

Some borne of jealousy,

Some borne of envy,

Some borne of pride,

Some borne of gluttony,

Some of greed,

Some of wrath,

And others of lust


The flame it burns,

In us,

Deep within us,

But it gets dull,

As the desires stack,

As life unravels,

As vision blurs



The darkness,

It grows.

The life,

It sublimes.

The fire,

It wanes.

The shadow,

It conquers.