the candle in the breeze of the night

A story within the heart of one writer to another

A candle waving in the breeze of the night, I poked my eye before it.
Tears dripping down my cheeks I wished, hoped and prayed to make it.
But I didn't.
Instead I slithered away into the discomfort of bitter sweet sorrow.
Wiping salty waters from page to page.
It was the letter I thought had came to take my poverty, materialize the dream I spend nights visualizing.
All for one person to write back a few sentences than the thousands I had wrote for months. Pouring heart and passion.
Carving plots upon plots upon plots. Characters I loved died in the pages. People I loved died in my reality. Deep within me that day I died. Pushed back into the insecurity of self pity and questions with no vivid answer, I tossed the letter to the floor. 'You are not good enough' it wrote. 'What does that even mean'. I wondered in my mind, trapped within my library,
Venturing deep into its darkest and dirtiest shelves. Searching, looking, looking, looking; till my subconscious self could not walk anymore. It was now dawn at the horizon. The curtain on the window was open. Revealing another day to face the task awaiting me. A knock on the other side of the door. A reminder it wasn't publishing day. I was still the simplistic poet and storyteller, the writer with the wave of life experiences and the voice within me. I was still nothing more than A forgotten soul searching for himself in the words I wrote, my blood still flowed with endless emotions, mischievous to even myself. Even today I will put out my art with the hope someone out there can relate with me. So I held my breath and blew myself into the darkness. Creeping into bed. the smell of smoke in the room ascended out the cracks in the wall. Damn it; I had forgotten to burn the rejection letter. We are the same, the letter and I, both refusing to burn away. Silently I looked in the dark,waiting for sleep to come for me. My little shack on the hill, in the quiet slumps awaited for me in my dreams. I heard a voice calling for me once more on the other side, my eyes opened; it was a stranger shaking his head, I was in a hospital. I must have forgotten the candle waving in the breeze of the night.

Author's Note

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