adventures in dysthymia

Sunday, April 01, 2018

Burn On, a poem

Burn On

This brushfire life burns on,
this errant spark that grew
to consume the world.
One blaze extinguished, cold,

another reignited,
enduring, springing up,
a flicker in the darkened
inert universe,

winding down. We burn
a little longer, you
and I. We burn, burn on,
against what night must come.

Stephen Brooke ©2018

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