The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible. ~Vladimir Nabakov

Monday, January 18, 2010

Fire within

Though significantly important to alter the synergy
We are merely nothing but specks in the dust
Living within these small sparks of lust
We are composed of this energy
Each and every a radiant ball
And our slightest desire
Holds key to a fire
Driven by core
Law of heat
Or loving
Peace or war
Everyone walks
Through their door
And as destiny nears
Our utmost hour of higher
Then our flame seizes and yields
To a this parallel element of power
With scorching is this blistering hissing
Yes surrenders inevitably never really missing
While the suffocating and smell of death with ashes
Echoes in hot ambers and cinders of residual life
Yet the flame is eternal for its glory of fame
And the dying greyness repeats the game
For one day again our soaring flame
Relives a life in another name
In famous rebirth
Dances again
Flickers once more
Bursting back into blaze
Walking through another door
With mesmerizing disbelief and daze
And opportunity and mortality of existence
Our ability to learn and discover in persistence
While this bright flame feeds the fire within us all

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