Hope

A flickering candle,
wait-more like a flashlight,
sits in my chest-
waiting to be flipped
On.

Sometimes, when night fades away
and I can hear the sound of breathing
it burns and burns
-my everlasting Fire.
That is, until nights decides
to rend it asunder once more-
leaving a wisp, a fragment
in a deep sea of black.
But…
no matter how thick the sea gets
(or how little battery power I have left)
there is always that little stubborn spark,
that is truly everlasting.
Just bring another flashlight.


Had a bit of a rough week, but I am happy on how this poem turned out overall. Could use some good tweaking though. Divulge your thoughts please!

-Seras Nova