The Mosquito's Candle

-
Written October 10, 2010

 The little room; its darkness overstifling
The sounds of night creeping in through the open window
The messengers of nature swooping through the air
Towards the lone sources of light… flickering in the gloom

Those silly creatures singlemindedly racing
Towards their perceived rays of hope
Zooming in; tiny hearts full… with all the promise of a new life

They fly through the flame… antics remnant
Of some eastern Fire Walker
What false belief lead them to believe in their imperviousness to the heat?

Fairy wings dissolved by the fury of the flame
In the throes of death… spindly feet in spasms

One that lately moved like the breath of the wind
Trapped in useless struggles to live

The hour is out… and light returns
The deceitful flame is put out
Relief accompanies the lightness flooding the house
Showing up the colours on the wall… and familiar faces

But far too late it is for a tiny form
Lying crumpled by the foot of the stand
A pinprick in a sea of lives… here one minute… not the next

The same light bringing life and death
Relief and a Close for All Things

Comments

Post a Comment

Leave an opinion!

Popular posts from this blog

Throwback: Waltzing to the Tune of Rhetoric

-
Written September 7, 2010 A dark series of squiggles make their way down and across the page, in that order. Cheap poetry and lame jokes are the order of the day. For once the silence has retreated and is content to watch from the top row of the bleachers. For once there's no raining on the court while the ball's in play. There's a rose that lies at the back of my locker, wilted and fading away. It's a rose I don't expect to see in bloom again. It's a rose I've put aside, but one I cannot bear to throw away. Perhaps I should consign it to the bonfire I've made in my backyard, out of all the relics from the past. Perhaps keeping it in my locker is dangerous, for it might bloom again. Roses such as this one have been known to bloom more beautiful than before, long long after they withered away into nothing more than thin brown sticks and faded and detached petals. And in my excitement, I might just reach out and grab it again, forgetting th
Read more

Sweet Summer Child: A Love Letter

-
Image
Photo by  Petr Ovralov  on  Unsplash Written December 9, 2016 I am not a gifting person. Years ago, someone suggested I write them something about love as a gift instead. I made many starts, completed nothing. Perhaps happiness doesn't inspire me the way sorrow does. Then last year came the first and only love letter I've ever written. Does it mean more if you write letters? May I? Dearest. When I met you, the only taste I remembered any more was the taste of ashes in my mouth. When I met you, the sun had cracked open, and loss was everywhere.  When I met you, you were a shadow, hidden among shadows, a nervous joke whispered on the winds of my thoughts.  When I met you, I was looking for a friend.  Then I met you, and the sun rose again, whole and healthier than before.  I met you, and the joke turned to undying laughter on my lips.  I met you, and I knew longing again, my soul unable to bear its weight.  I did not know you existed, and in the wee hours o
Read more

Review: Vampire Academy #2 - Frostbite

-
Image
Crossposting from Feminist Quill, written July 22, 2015 Book Title:  Frostbite Author:  Richelle Mead Year of Publication:  2008 Series:  Vampire Academy #:  2 Goodreads Rating (Avg.):  4.31 Goodreads Rating (Mine):  5 Plot Description:  The sequel to  Vampire Academy  picks up a few months after the first, showing a new stage in Rose's guardian training. Running away from the school for two years had meant that she spent the first book trying to catch up with her classmates, and  Frostbite  opens with her Qualifier exam - one which requires an external guardian to evaluate her progress. As her mentor, it seems Dimitri was able to get her an interview with one of the most legendary guardians around, and as a bonus, this means Rose gets to roadtrip alone with her crush. Her cute triumph at having scored ten hours of being alone with him soon dovetails neatly with tragedy - a Strigoi attack at their destination. And with that, Mead begins to unravel the clean cut rul
Read more