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.