The Flame

I’ve found myself drifting,

Far out to sea,

Thinking of thoughts,

That think nothing of me.

And though sadness climbs,

Each wave with ease,

The grief is just proof,

That I’m truly free.

For I’ve wandered through silence,

Where no light could stay,

And the sound of old echoes

Still brought me to day.

I reached for tomorrow,

While lost in the night,

Each ache that I harbored,

Still yearned for the light.

I’ve fought to find sunrise,

Beneath fading skies,

And cast all the places,

Where hope still defies.

I gathered the fragments,

The pieces I’ve known,

And found in their breaking,

The seeds I had sown.

For hearts that stop longing

Grow quiet in time,

So mine keeps on breaking,

In rhythm and rhyme.

Perhaps that is living,

To bend like the trees,

Pain blossoms in spring,

And falls with the leaves.

So I’ll keep on sailing,

Hear the storms call my name,

Because within every sorrow,

Sits a small, sheltered flame. 

Though I’ve found myself drifting,

Far out to sea.

I’ll admire the thoughts,

That think nothing of me.

And as I watch sadness climb,

Each wave with ease,

I lay back and join it,

And feel truly free.