I light a candle for that which I have lost

and that which can only be found in your broken down heart.

My disappearing candle illuminates the flickering path,

revealing the troubled roots that line the ground and the mossy, knotted branches that line the sky.

All of which softly whisper the terrible truth I'll never speak,

and as I stumble deeper, the voices crescendo.

My cause is soon lost, and a feeling of anger envelopes my weary body

as I lay myself to rest in the burning shade of a rotting tree.

And I dream.

Of what Is unobtainable, yet close as an uttered sentence.

I dream of that which is the former and the latter,

and the latter eliminating the former with an sentence of a summer term,

eliminating my dream in it's furor and determination.

The belated breath of the former is exhaled one last time,

and drapes the room in black curtains radiating lament of the past

and the newly found.