harold_maude's journal

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In the burning

I've been thinking. On overload again.
But it's something I'm prone to do it seems.

I've been thinking about a flame
of yellow and brilliant white
And piles of things that speak
of both day and night.
Of pictures painted
while rivers of life flowed
and have been wondering
if I took a match
how high the flames would go.

I've been daydreaming all day long
about running far away
and leaving behind
in ashen grey
the things of these now tired hands.

I cannot seperate what I feel
from the storm that sits above my head.
And so I've been thinking
about a burning flame.
To take thoes things
that have define my soul
and pile them in a field of dying grey
taking a match
a simple thing
and setting it all ablaze.

In the burning
there would be the last threads
the shadows and dreams
and thoughts
so many
too many to stand against
my heart is blank tonight
I feel as though I've hit the wall
one more time
this time it's like a dark void
dark as blackest night.

If lighting a blaze
by match and flame
maybe it would lift the weight
maybe...