The flickering flame slowly begins to die, <br />I watch as smoke begins to gently fly. <br />Just the little ember in the wick remains, <br />Like a survivor from the wax it proclaims. <br /> <br />Pulsing and orange it waivers uncertain, <br />The smoke hiding it like a grey curtain. <br />I can't blink as I watch it die, <br />Knowing that its time is nigh. <br />One day I will be like this wick, <br />My body wading into death thick. <br /> <br />Some times I feel like it starts now, <br />To combat it, I don't know how. <br />Dreams and hope are its fire, <br />But now I lack all desire. <br /> <br />What does one do when he reaches the end? <br />Does his life before his eyes begin to blend? <br />Are all his triumphs or failures his last thought? <br />Or is it the things in life he still sought? <br /> <br />Regret would be a cruel friend to see last, <br />So why it now from my mind can't I cast? <br />Maybe it is there to move me to live and love, <br />Maybe really it is cooing softly like a dove. <br /> <br />No longer should I complain, <br />My soul now should sustain. <br />Live my life so full and complete, <br />To inspire others it to repeat.<br /><br />Andrew Hinton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-flickering-flame-3/
