As light dims.
I strike fire to wick.
Give birth to candle light.
Which shall guide my night.
A week past, I laid claim too potential.
Now, I face my short future.
Revealed by sad eyes.
As my potential past.
I have found no other.
Too reason my blame, or romance.
Deep and consuming.
Amongst such a shadowed mortal.
Once a true disbeliever.
I pray to you lord.
Awaken my sleeping pen.
Allow my thoughts to prepare my death.
I must empty my mind.
Of certain acquired depth.
Fill the pages.
I beg, my ego needs satisfying.
Then, I shall leave - memories.
To others, foolish readings.
And to you, I shall read.
Yes, recite - humbly - for your beautiful ears.
Yet, if your not.
And the sea be my vast grave.
What shall be my meaning?
When time has taken those, who only remember my name.
Alas, I am taken - saddened.
Useless being my lament.
The candle grows weary.
And with a breath - goes out.