Alone,
A candle flickers across from me.
I watch the flame dance,
As she casts shadows on the wall.
She is a slave to the wick,
Yet she dances with a mind of her own.
No song- just the sounds of the silent night.
I close my eyes and I listen
My chest rises and falls with purpose.
I glance to my right,
A tree, so green, reminds me of home.
Funny though-
I've never felted attached to one place,
Like the flame to the wick,
Rather, I am the smoke.
I Rise.
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