by, Melissa R. Mendelson
The darkness was growing. There was no light left. Cold breezes slipped under opened windows, and innocence melted away. Tears laid hard on tiled, patterned floors, and there was nothing left to say. The candle said it all, but no dreams would meet the stars tonight. Fear and doubt were the shadows on the walls, and the full moon laughed. Darkness had won.
Single, white tears raced toward its end. Depression burned and blistered. Loneliness was the heat of compassion, but the cold embers of this world still glistened, begging for life. Nothing laid beyond the window but broken ground, ground that would never be rebuilt. We failed, and no light could shed truth over lie. Darkness had seeped in, and the lights went out. Only the candle now remained alive.
Static played on the radio. Television was dead, buried six feet deep under Reality. The pages ran dry, and the books were thrown away. Knowledge was power, but now it was just who had the best toy. Corruption was golden, and gossip was the sweet juice of grapevine. Love and life were silent, taken by struggle, and the sun burned than shined. Darkness came on swift wings, and the cold breezes that continued to slip through my defenses attacked the flame. But the candle wouldn’t die.
Their haunted faces told of the future. This was where we were headed. Trust was misplaced. No hero could overtake the villain for evil was many, and sinister was growing. Burden was breaking, and the low man on the totem pole was split in half. Nobody was saving the world. We gave up, but I still lit the candle. And I begged for hope.
The flame flickered. The past was golden, full of knowledge denied. Great civilizations stood proud and then… We disappeared. We’re lost in confusion. We’re burned by lust and not fulfilled by passion. We’re shadows on the wall, and this world slipped through our hands. Nothing remained outside my window but darkness. Yet, here lies the flame.
Now, it’s gone. The flame disappeared into extinction. Tears forever carved with heart would tell of our lives, our love, and our loss. Essence was the soft, white wax now hardened. Angry, red eyes held back the sea of black, and smoke drifted into the air to take me away. Warmth lingered over hand, and hope did not flicker. Ash remained, our mistakes left bare, but this was not the end. We toppled over the edge, easily falling away, and then I grabbed the matches and lit another thread. My eyes opened, drinking in this world, blinded by fire, and now I am the flame that would never die.