I tenderly move the tendons,
acrimoniously supporting the crackling bones,
of my left arm, directing my index finger,
towards the flickering flare, of a lit candle,
.
I enclose it… pinch it within my thumb, and
the aforementioned finger,
it percolates inside me, and I feel light,
having consumed this illumination
for my dire heart,
.
but I am patient
for it to make a semblance, and smolder the walls,
of the dilapidated yore, thawing me throughout,
into the wax heaps, of a rejuvenated identity,
.
though it would be malformed, yet welcomed,
because there is splendor in normalcy,
but our true nature relies at
what turns out to be the end of things
.
The prompt today at dVerse(the last of this year) features the candles, light and winter solstice as its theme.
HA's Place 