Match-lit.

They build,

They maintain,

They took each mould

They twisted and chained.

They wrapped the rope

They bound the strings

They worked and worked

Till it became a “thing”.

Oh! A glorious thing it was.

Stood tall and strong

They all praised and bowed

Out of these hands came such a thing.

The days came

The months came

The years passed

And seasons played their part.

Look at it?

Seems wobbly and loose

Bolts need a tighten

What should we do?

What can I do?

I can’t build anymore;

Build and build on a rusty old thing

It won’t carry

It won’t last

What is to pass?

Leave it…

On a cold day,

When the night crept

And I stared at you

All I could do

Was lit the match

And watch you burn.

Oh! How you lit up.

Flames turned you to nothing

But the night felt warm

And the cold seemed gone

And once where you stood

I saw an open

And the sun shone

Burning bright like the flames of night.

And all I saw was  the light.

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