A Light That Stays Lit Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

Without any more regrets,
with charred fingers,
I will go on living all tomorrows
like today—

I am a light that stays lit
long after the fire's gone out.

There is only one
soul to truly encounter,
who'll be there for you or me,
nonchalant admirers,
besotted with each other
and ourselves entirely.

But when these cinders fall
and rest, and cannot
burn a moment longer,
resting as dust on a mirror,
like a discarded flower—

your beauty will be remembered
forever,
for its flames' wondrous attire
and honest candor,
in not only me,
but something else—
a chain of flowers never broken.