1.
Breadcrumbs from the sun
2.
A parachutist on a planet
with barely any gravity
I watch the flame
free-fall slow into you
collasping into the billows
of its own dress
a shipwreck settling
into the silt of your heart
there it flickers
gifting shadows of starlings
to walls that have
never known sky
3.
I plant candles for you
single petal flowers
that sink slow as the tide
slow as the vanishing
of a snow man
till only the black coals
of the eyes remain
staring at the sun
rising as slow
as the candles
lowering their flags
4.
Is that all we’re doing
cupping a candle
against the dark
carrying it across
the storm swept plain
trying to prevent
wind and whispers
tugging free
its remaining wing
5.
At the heart of the glacier
carved out a womb for itself
ear flitting to each wall
it hears the sun
6.
In the morning
prayer scribbled
all over the ceiling
clouds of ghosts
splatter the table
the light has come
Candles like fields have always been a big poetic motif for me. They are already imbued with a lot of imagery and meaning. Something about their many states makes them very versatile poetically and ironically also makes me think of water; especially the teardrop shape a single flame can take on.
By nature they are very hopeful, this tiny flicker of light in all the surrounding, crushing dark. Something so very delicate and fragile can be the creator of uncontrollable fires. From great gentleness passions can be born.
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