A little life dies

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How do I say what I see in you,
blinded by your light, I stand,
a constant companion.
And in the darkness, you blossom,
a shining North star,
upon bleak and doomed horizon.
Though great the distance
and loud the whispers of the unkind,
my hand seeks yours until hope is gone.
But the candle sputters and waxes
hope is loath to leave this heart
and in the shadows of dying light,
may a spark once more ignite,
to burn the way to once what was.
No more a forlorn memory
but a living, breathing reality.
Ah, the light dies, and the eyes awake
awash once again in the stars of dreams
and reality makes herself felt.
And a little rain falls, one more time,
a ritual enacted upon each mournful morn,
and a little life dies upon withered, unsmiling lips.

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