It always begins
with a spark.
Then ignites into
a small flame.
Forming itself into
a grand blaze.
Never dying,
always burning,
growing constantly
into unconditional love.
With the exception
of this one time,
where the spark
never formed itself
into anything
worth savoring.
It tried to light,
but there was nothing
for it to
ignite itself on.
There was thought
to be a flame,
but only
to be imaginary.
An illusion
of the heart,
pushing for something,
finding nothing,
losing everything
deemed important.
The loss did not
inflict much pain,
only the pain
of the loss.
Being only confused
about the reason why.
Forced to settle
with the fact.
For this is
the flame that never was.
unpublished work: �copyright 1994 by Troy D. Walker
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