I watched the candle burn, the wax it melted, and dropped without a sound, similar to the memories dyeing inside what used to be the Christian part of me. I lie in leaves of snow by a dead barren tree, the frozen Poudre trickles so lightly near me. It is another holiday, a bed of luminescent passing beyond my conscious so brief. The candle I have brought burns into the cold night seeking the phantom, the spirit of a common flame, so uncommonly. My eyes they close, by design to quicken the shadow of the flame the shape of unformed ghost my destiny internally. And I have come undone, Angelica, she descends the tongues of G_D, the candle burns my soul so incessantly. Far above me the dark sky, lights with candle flames a massive futuristic sea.
Above the ground a song is heard, in triple chords, in six held notes, it freezes like a rhyme in me. Elijah comes, Elijah goes, the cold dark night in the candle glow, still his mantle he will not fold, and warm me. And I think about these things, as the candle burns, what makes a gift, can it be traced, is it spirit, or is it love, are we light, or all the darkness that seems too much. And I have come undone, Angelica, hovers to my loins and breaks my soul, to let my true self through. For in those days she led my people, she led them on through. This holiday, while the candles burning she will guide me too.
I drive the canyon, thinking of lessons, curves and boulders, looming in shadows, the flame of my candles through. I left the candle out by the river, the wax melted to some residue. The old me, there by the river, the light extinguished, another year consumed. If memory bares, a replica of the candle, a truthful deliverance, will lead me through. For now, possessed, an essence inside me I have come undone. I have come undone.
I watched the candle burn, the wax it melted, and dropped without a sound, similar to the memories dyeing inside what used to be the Christian part of me. – 12.21.2-16 – דָּנִיֵּאל