Phantoms
I watch the candle burning down
to the final ash
flickering in the dead of night
enticing me into its silent dance,
melting . . . melting . . .
I fall prey
to the phantoms of the dying flame,
the shadow of a child passes on
to the ghost of a woman bound in chains
innocence relinquished to scorched remains.
and so former lives of a spirit mourn
the decimation of the soul
as the heart seeks refuge
in the eye of the storm,
falling . . . falling . . .
far from grace
to the phantoms of a life untamed,
fleeing the wrath of a condemned fate
where a wide-eyed child went astray
a ravaged woman walks in vain.
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