Death’s cloak of souls
waft in soft candlelight’s
smoky illusion.
A mere flicker from orange mouths
is acquiescence
gleaned from smouldering smiles
tilted skyward,
looking inward
for those elusive answers
before their time melts
and soft wax woefully transcends
this columnar life –
all but spent.
Candles snap and flicker
at dusk
lest death should befall us
before twilight’s shoulder
thrusts to assist the burial
of our burdens,
and because we have questions
to ask:
who will light the way now
and lift the veil of sunrise
while the air is thick and suffused
with sour grief?
Why are those precarious guardians
like paper dolls
dancing on our dying embers’
flameless combustion?
And who is it that beckons to us
through candlelight smoke?
Who?
Excellent poem, my friend.
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Thank you very much, Michael. Glad it worked.
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Very creative. Well done
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Lovely. Thank you very much.
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🙂
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