Sunday, August 9, 2009


She didn’t stop to look amazed
at the progress of the flame
from slow to fast and furious,
from loving to indifferent,
and from belief into the chasm
of uncertainty.

Instead she stopped to look amazed
at the wind of happenstance
that reduces love’s tall stature
to the likeness of
liquid candle wax.

Breathe! She breathes and yet the wind
moves quickly out from deep within
into the world where candles stand
burning. burning, burning.

And she lights her loving candles
to look amazed again, again,
at the melt and solidify
after the flame has died.

From what love was to what it is
and she sighs before the cast aside
of the distorted and disfigured
made useless by the flame
and the wind of happenstance
brought up from the depths
of his or her or my
unbeknown and inherent
wilful intent.

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