adventures in dysthymia

Wednesday, August 03, 2011

Flame

I am the same, the flame that danced
once on this candle. I burn more brightly
now, burn more steady. Ah,
but what a fine flickering

I made before. I was full
of shadows, then, and wore the night
in my eyes. The light slipped through
my fingers, leaving only smoke.

I guttered toward my desires,
once, on each breath of wind, in storms
of fitful flame. I faded before
the morning sun's insistent truth.

I have become the day, the burning
song of life. I hold it cupped
within  my heart, the flame that is
yet I, this fire that danced once.

Stephen Brooke ©2011

So, it's about...what? It could be seen perhaps as someone who was once depressed and now 'all better' but that would be too narrow a reading. Any reading that one could put it into prose would be too narrow, for that matter. That's why we have poetry.

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