Mirrored Flame (present particle of Be)

 

Prelude

It is not the candle that attracts me, it’s the flame it holds

Nor the warm light it shares but the life it so clearly display

This flame speaks to me, tells me who the man is, why he isn’t

A bleak comedy reflects back as you look deep, a black joke filled with lust and pain

I have sat many long nights staring into this flame, drifting knowledge of ones mind

It is not the woman that attracts me, it’s the urge she possess

Not the gentle touch but her true will to let me be, alive

This warmth has a stronger grip on me than the will to live

Sarcastic hollow games, threads of inner core pulled out in the open

Taken and stomped on to be mended mere moments after, unfailingly heated

Outro

A flame reaching the night sky with hungry seeking bright fingers as the cold night swallows all

One pure element into another, a perfect alliance, Mortis et vitae rota

Sleepless yet not fully wake now, drifting away and up

Words and clear sentences filling my thoughts

Perfectly beautiful lines of black letters, meaning and hope on a white flowing backdrop

As I open my eyes to the dark room the vision gets muted and vague, to finally falter and dies

Awakened, the underlying cause of lost ideas

Last night I lost her again, for good this time I believe

To mend her broken trust in me has now become a thing of the past

Forever staying within me, never to waver fully yet time will surely dim and dull our senses

Coda a.k.a The tail

He once told me you were like a broken mirror without the seven years of bad luck. If I had asked in detail what he meant he would have smiled, hesitated for a brief moment before seeking deep within my eyes for the reason of my curiosity. Not until he was fully satisfied that my intensions were of the right nature would he start describing in minute detail the room that you occupied. Your room was filled with the most vivid shapes of black and white, rights and wrongs. An organized mess that as long as time was given remained in your absolute control. Your room and the space around you were governed with precision and resolute willfulness, tornado-like passion and your deep rooted love for details. Your ability to love to hate to love. He would have told me if I had asked him about your ‘time’, that it was not any of your direct concerns, not time as the minions would know time anyways. Time was not measured in regards to the Sun nor our Earth and it’s moon cycles for you. You, my sweet soul Sister, my roaming free Brother, my own hollow reflection in the cracked mirror. Your room is in the open, winds from distant horizons sweeps in and whip your being senseless, ripping your hair, roars in mantras as the night sky opens up and let your mind take flight, always up and beyond. Out in the open your room is keeping you in control as you walk with passion and grace upon shattered pieces of broken mirror, shards sparkling like a star cluster beneath you. Drifting off now, a transparent shape fading out like a powerful echo.

As the man bid his adieu, said the formal words so often spoken at times like this and with a blank expression started walking away a space of emptiness hung shadow-less with a faint clandestine warmth where he had lingered minutes before. He walked with a slow but firm pace down the path that connected me to you to him and turned left over the crest, into another worlds vision. The closest star to Earth is the Sun.

Ω