Through a candle’s essence
Crimson borders soothe the edge
Pulsating to the beat
The sounds dance on the eyelid
The visions a striking purple
Equally green too
But why the film of the photograph
Capturing inside the minds eye
At time opaque
Even transparent
But always certain
Creation imprisoned
Freedom is a memory
This place can be hell
Convalescence will be
When she finally presides next to me.
8:14am 13th Oct 2007
