Bare Rooms
When I consider how my light is spent
like a lone candle lit in a small room
veiled in darkness, flashes of the
beautiful things, the terrible.
This light grows on for I still march on,
it leaks out flowing onto the floors,
cascading down the walls like a liquid
gold waterfall. My room is full to the
brim; I wish this to leak, to wash
into other life's, to fill their bare rooms
with this precious glow. People pass it
up, for their rooms are raging seas trying
to swallow this light. Still I wish, for there
is light in everything, if you just remember
to look.
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