Photo by CHUTTERSNAP on Unsplash
It starts with a spark
That might not last,
A glow in the dark
That flickers fast.
Let that hollow bark
Of decisions past,
In black, make a mark
With embers, catch!
But fires fade and dreams can die.
Sure things become pipe dreams, gone.
What was staid, now uncouth and wry.
What was then can linger on.
To unjade or rekindle, why?
What was the point, when I am done?
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