Ignition

The days pass slowly in cold repose Futile as the frozen clock upon the wall Without movement, there is no purpose Without purpose, there is no reason Without reason, there is cold repose Shrouded in gauze beneath the world. The day will come, the hour will strike Comfort cast aside Stairs descended in easy stride Doors flung open, windows unhung Breath alone will draw the clouds from the sun Inhaling deep, the grey within Emerging red, filled to the brim With fire and love cast cross the skies For no flame ever dies Where a single spark survives.