It was a feeble flame
But it warmed my house
It burned upon its own ashes
And upon ancient scars
From dusty temples of India
To floating altars of
From Taiwan and Morocco
Incense somehow paved my way
How the swirl of a gray plume of smoke
Can fill one’s soul of grace and fear
How a trembling flame of sunsets makes us hope
Where colors exhale their brightness and peace
It was a feeble flame upon nuggets of resin
Trees in the Sahara had dripped one secret night
Yet they found their way to my room somehow
To take me where a kid I once was
Life was all sunrise then
And when the sun let its hair down to bathe
In the bluest of seas
I did not think of sunsets
…Tonight
It is dark outside
But that swirling flame
Makes me think about sunrises, again
February 7, 2015
©Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2015
No comments:
Post a Comment