Sunday, October 05, 2008

come, walk with me.

nobody did think of it as anything. sure, it was surreal, it felt surreal; but give it a couple of days and what you will have is nothing. nothing to make of it. nothing to feel out of it. nothing at all that holds to it. how tragic, to end as such, when its fabrication was intricate, theatrical and magical; and all the way to its execution did not dissapoint.

the light wrapping around the wick is weak now. i am about to make it die burning itself without any purpose unless i return to the shelves- to read the millions of books in the short life of that light, before i get to throw them into it therefore letting the flame lives on; buying the time that i need to seek another candle.

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