Flame

Sit unflinching in a slumbered pose each exhaled breath like a moor's mist, a rhythmic pulse like a metronome on the thin temples throb like a snare drum's distant beat but closer...much closer. Yet watch the candle flame's heat, curving and caressing the air like a finch's cadmium wings morphing in shadow beating silently at midnight's last cloaking at day's close, Is it a temptation reflections of loss like a moth who is inveigled into the fatal scorching flames, slowly seduced by beauty's fantasy whose warmth bathes our aching limbs. As time slows to tacky treacle, oozing minutes into hours when the fire freezes the moment. But with love, the flame is wrath-furnaced, dissolves like ice cubes. Then symphonies are syncronised as a phoenix sets its spiralled flight that corkscrews the singing stars... regenerated.