a Torch in the darkness brings light
but unlit,
It's simply a cold, useless,
cloth hewn stick
His old matches just burn out,
scorching fingers,
showing glimpses of, a cold,
damp, dark figure
Precious gifts sent by a
Thai dancer,
her answer in, bereavement;
heart placid.
The math, my gift, will not light
for him,
the figure draws near, whispers,
my friend..
My friend.. where have you been?
Join me,
Let us join as one in,
the Void!
Her spirit does not pull him
he tries to say,
"I'm here!"
"I'm watiing! Why didn't you stay for me?!"
The vision dims, the last match's light sways.
