It Burns Brighter
A wish is born
in the lap of the unconscious,
a trembling little thing,
a spark
to set fire to the dark.
It wakes
on days
when it finds room to play
it grows, even smiles.
It wakes
on days
to count hours.
It wakes
on days
by the sound of screams,
it fears and hides
staying under forever
never to be seen.
It lives its days
and at night
it shuts its sight
and retires to the heart
where it swings by the strings.
It wants to live.
As it gets weaker and older
it must die
it knows
but before it goes
one last time
it must burn brighter than ever;
who knows
there are those who find it in the end.