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.
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