The Fire and the Darkness

There were a million friendships just waiting for me, had I only made the time for them.  Instead, I hurried home every night, to be tender tinder in her furnace; in love and on fire every waking minute intertwined with her life.  I never learned the stories of my peers, never sat under the wise words of old mentors, or rekindled with old friends.  Instead, my life was built around one – big – flame.  And when that fire burnt out many small candles were lit to take her place.

And I– know she’s on fire somewhere out there.  And someone is running  fingers through her tender tendriled flames.  And I am in this cave of nothing… trying to remember what it was to see again.  And in the darkness I can’t remember the shape of my face, the cleft of my chin, finding only deep pockets for my eye sockets where my eyes used to be.  

And I–  press on through darkness.  I realize am not blind, just more sensitive to the light.  More aware of its impermanence, how thinking too hard or breathing heavy might’ extinguish everything that’s left in me.   I press on through the darkness.  Because there is no where left to go.  I press on through the darkness.  Because that is all she left for me to do.

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