Burning Through Time

This candle burns in my vision:
Burning wax melts
Like goosebumps dripping down an arm.
I can hear a distant sound
Fading my way,
A cry of fear from the darkness
That fills this room.

I turn my head,
My neck creaks like an old door:
The rusted hindges,
My thoughts following the same root
Carved by my past.

I survey this environment
Where I sit,
Gleanning every detail
As a child witnessing first snow.
The walls hold a blood red
Like a rose covering the blood
Seeping from it’s scalley pores.
Each wall, infused with a sacred lining
Known only by lifes anatomy.

Tonight, as darkness falls
Upon my vision as does it upon
The colors bleeding from the sky,
I lie,
Fetal position,
In the cove of my heart,
Meditation upon lifes small truths
That I still conceal with ignorance:
Why does the present still slip from my grasp?


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