There looms something, a flickering candlelight
where my fingers are wound tight
and the whispering cool air brushes through
the strands of my hair,

picking out the strangeness,
weaving through to soothe the blistering scalp
my breath lit with an invisible flame
as I stood alone at the end of an empty space

the niche in my back still throbbed with pain
I couldn't possibly be the shelter from the rain
causing the pavement to drown, to the sneering
snatches of masked ogres making their way

yet I remained, in the fullness of the current
there should be no man, no woman afraid
to perch on a treacherous route
where moments blossom into something real

I laughed, thrilled with the notes coursing
as noticed what clutched in my fingers  
was the ability to touch things and to feel
where change beckons without fear