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The Flame

I watch the orange and red light cast shadows on my wall, while feeling captivated by a
Force so small.
I see heat rise and disappear, the silent hum of night is all that I hear.
I watch the steady flicker and sway, rise and fall, for another motion so controlled and precise I can't recall.
The world moves around it yet I seem frozen in bliss, a wave of thoughts and moments rush over me that I so dearly miss.
Were it not for its barriers surely it would break free, spreading and growing it burns for more, the hunger of not knowing what's in store.
Like a beast in a cage pawing for escape, how easily it becomes domesticated by a piece of string, the waxy prison seals its fate.
Its scent fading into a Smokey dream, the once vibrant light, now no more than a gleam.
A pool of warmth streams down, cooling into abstract shapes.
One last protesting flicker so wild and untame, and the lights die when I put out the candles flame.



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