Flame
A life lived in ignorance.
Once, so long ago,
I believed myself immortal.
Nothing would ever be different.
Fingers graze across the table,
Rolling the match, ready to strike
With a flick of a thumbnail,
The flint transforms into flame.
A small light radiates, filling this space
Dominated by pieces of my life.
Paintings, writings, pens, and canvas
Strawn all over the place.
What am I doing with my days?
What do I want to see before I die?
Fingers float above the flame,
The pain slight from its kiss.
Pinching the flame between my fingers,
I am here but for a little while.
Faced with the reality of mortality,
Desire to strike more flames lingers.
~S. Reed
Written for the Daily Prompt – Dust in the Wind
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