Lost
The flickering pillar grows short Crying gentle tears of staining hot wax It cannot fend off the darkness any longer, not with its light so dim and dull But what of the glow that remains? The feet falter and stumble on the freezing ground And the light grows dimmer still In damp, musty, stale air the breath catches in the throat The walls whisper, telling secrets of the lost and unknown Shards of broken glass cover the floor The feet leave bloody footprints The flame ever shrinking Cold stone walls appear from midnight Sharp turns and narrow passages invisible to the untrained eye The completeness of nothing swallows the heart Emptiness of nothing swallows the mind The candle burns lower A round pale drop falls from the flame A china doll's face Pain's sweet release triggers realization The candle is out And there is a light at the end of the hall Written March 15th, 2002 © on Mar 28 2002 10:11 AM PST 10 • 0 • 12
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"The flickering pillar grows short..."