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The Flame

A dark grey silent world
concrete, conformist, cold
Sometimes a flicker of warmth creeps in
Sometimes it breathes hope
Sometimes it smothers and dies
Under the weight of the combined credo - conform
Sometimes the flame is
bright and fascinating and dangerous
Like moths, the grey gather
and in one mighty conflagration
It consumes all in sight
Sometimes the flame is
warmth and hope and dreams
until it smothers and dies
Drained by the unanswerable demands
of the masses of the hopeless
And sometimes...no, just once
It was you
A smile that warmed the day
A twinkle that lit the night
A lesson from the heart
Of love and truth
and fear keeping us apart
Your flame healed
You reached inside
You found the essence
near or far the beacon was there
no charge, no cost
You didn't lie or judge
You were our flickering hope
that all wasn't lost
Did we take too much?
Did you need that strength
that warmth, that gift?
Is it too late to give something back?
Could we ever stop taking..
Could we pause and reflect
and simply say thankyou
its cold out now
silent, concrete and grey
I'll not be a moth
I'll not smother that flame
I'll remember
and near or far
I'll follow the beacon

by Kathryn Griffin

in memory of Terence O'Halloran (24 sep 45-11 Aug 99)

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Copyright  2005 Elusive Dreams Mud. All rights reserved.
For comments or questions, email Klah.
Last updated: May 25, 2005.