Poetry: Burning Flames

Like a seed gone cold
I fell amongst the snow
Fingers frozen,
mind empty like a faulty oven,
But this heart of prose
Finely wrapped in scribbling pads,
Kept going like a white walker,
With each beat it pushed,
Pushed back and forth,
Yes it pushed till the iced walls came down…

…alas! I saw the light,
I felt the ink flow through my veins
As the ice lost its cold grip
My itching fingers couldn’t stay
For it has strayed too long
Away from the pen,
Away from the paper,
Away from life itself,
Away from expressing a thousand words with few lines
Figuratively and literally…

…I feel the flames fueling up
As it burns through my eyes
Lighting up my path between the lines
While my pen has found solace,
Scribbling in the dark of the night,
The longer the fire the purest the gold
I’m all cooked up, first have your appetizer
For this burning flame is never going out.


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