My Passion

My Passion

Someone strikes a match.

And they pass it to me.

In which yet again.

I light another candle.


Its flame is spirited, untamed, 

But full of warmth.

It frequently flares, 

Bright and hot.


It lingers.

Encapsulating your heart,

Gripping tightly.

For a time, some time.


But like the rest of the candles

That lay in the room,

It will have the same trail.

The same two paths.


Either left alone to wither,

Or pursued to its full extent.

Either the flame is extinguished,

Or melted away into a pool of nothing.



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