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Entry tags:
[brigits_flame] prompt - ember
Alone/Together
It never gets dark here.
The city is full of people
but is completely void of life.
That fire burned brightly once,
a lifetime ago, it seems:
everything in its path was consumed,
more than we can know.
Yet the cinders still glow
hotter than they have any right to.
Our flames burned
uncoupled. Across millions of lives,
the fight never ends.
Sentiments will always travel
without hope.
We are nothing.
We are nothing
without hope.
Sentiments will always travel;
the fight never ends.
Uncoupled across millions of lives,
our flames burned
hotter than they have any right to,
yet the cinders still glow
more than we can know.
Everything in their path was consumed
a lifetime ago, it seems:
that fire burned brightly once
but is completely void of life.
The city is full of people;
it never gets dark here.
author notes:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
truc_d_ouf's poem for week three of august used a similar reflective pattern which was shamelessly stolen for this entry, though something different came of the reflection in this piece. credit for that idea! dedicated to my platonic partner, who rambled at me over the phone for half an hour while i scribbled ideas and muttered incoherently before the poem itself would deign to be written.
It never gets dark here.
The city is full of people
but is completely void of life.
That fire burned brightly once,
a lifetime ago, it seems:
everything in its path was consumed,
more than we can know.
Yet the cinders still glow
hotter than they have any right to.
Our flames burned
uncoupled. Across millions of lives,
the fight never ends.
Sentiments will always travel
without hope.
We are nothing.
We are nothing
without hope.
Sentiments will always travel;
the fight never ends.
Uncoupled across millions of lives,
our flames burned
hotter than they have any right to,
yet the cinders still glow
more than we can know.
Everything in their path was consumed
a lifetime ago, it seems:
that fire burned brightly once
but is completely void of life.
The city is full of people;
it never gets dark here.
author notes:
truc_d_ouf's poem for week three of august used a similar reflective pattern which was shamelessly stolen for this entry, though something different came of the reflection in this piece. credit for that idea! dedicated to my platonic partner, who rambled at me over the phone for half an hour while i scribbled ideas and muttered incoherently before the poem itself would deign to be written.