The truth inside is a dying flame.
It flickers faintly
like an echo of days long ago
politely passing through.
Though warmth still radiates
and cradles the soul,
charred remains tell a story
of a fire that once burnt
so much brighter.
You may fuel the flame,
fan it, respark it,
or even start it over from scratch,
but nothing compares to that first encounter
that set the world and time ablaze
right before your eyes.
We gather around it
though faces and places
are ever changing;
the songs and spirits
dancing through the air
flirt with the familiar
and comfort this sense
of wasted time.
In every truth is a lie,
like light bound to a flame,
and you are powerless
as the story unfolds
and nature does as it does:
it keeps moving along.
Aug 13, 2016
Aug 13, 2016 at 6:35 PM UTC
The truth inside is a dying flame.
It flickers faintly
like an echo of days long ago
politely passing through.
Though warmth still radiates
and cradles the soul,
charred remains tell a story
of a fire that once burnt
so much brighter.
You may fuel the flame,
fan it, respark it,
or even start it over from scratch,
but nothing compares to that first encounter
that set the world and time ablaze
right before your eyes.
We gather around it
though faces and places
are ever changing;
the songs and spirits
dancing through the air
flirt with the familiar
and comfort this sense
of wasted time.
In every truth is a lie,
like light bound to a flame,
and you are powerless
as the story unfolds
and nature does as it does:
it keeps moving along.
