The Flame

A poem of finding love and trying to kindle it, a metaphor in the form of a flame in darkness.

The blackness of eternity is solemn

With very little relief.

It brings solace to some

And scares others beyond belief.

There is on flame in the dark;

My love is my flame.

Though I've been swallowed up

I was alive when she came.

I held the flame close

Keeping her light old.

For the darkness is silent

And it's times are cold.

The flame flickers and moves

Pushed by the cold air.

I protect it with my life

All my love and care.

If she wanes and decreases

I gulp and I sweat.

I grasp for the flame

And hold like no threat.

Should the flame disappear

And leave me alone.

I would cry for hours

The air filled by moans.

I cannot continue forward

But I cannot move back.

I am in a hard spot

And my heart is trapped.

I admire the flame

Watching her light.

She has brought me joy

And a happiness at night.

I take a step

And move ahead.

The light burns on

And stays withing my stead.

No longer alone in the black

My eyes dart away.

Then the wind blows hard

And my flame does fade.

Now alone again

I shall tread on.

My flame will be back

For I am it's pawn.