alas, a longing for light
illumination's gift from a lone candle
held by a mere wick, embraced within wax
meant to be wasted by both's unison with flame
and the wick, forgotten; the wax, forlorn
only the product is coveted
desired and dreaded.
one wants to come close
yield to its fluttering seduction
only to conjure mourned memories
for the coveted consumes.
still, silent, staring
a glass wall preventing
the congregation of body and desire
...a break in the silence
then, a silhoutte cast in the corner
tending to fresh wounds and adoration.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem