# Untitled Poem

Author: Dwale
Tags: Poem, Poetry

Had snippets of this bouncing around in my head for a while. Finally was able to get it down.

My flame low, frail as foam,  
  
We made a change of hateful acreage,  
  
Bitter course which I was bound  
  
To: trim the wick or quench the embers,  
Quick to cut the candle down  
  
  
And I would be your psychopomp  
  
And you would be my ward  
  
And I would guide you through the night  
  
To what we're heading towards  
  
And I would be your rescuer  
  
The one to clasp your hand  
  
And lift you off the spinning rock  
  
And clean you free of sand  
  
  
Clock hands whirled like a top,  
  
A fire died, another grew  
  
A pair of dice through parallax,  
  
To view from heights the chance improved  
  
A votive candle packed with wax  
  
  
And you will be my psychopomp  
  
And I will be your ward  
  
And you will guide me through the light,  
  
Or what we're heading towards  
  
And you will be the messenger  
  
You always meant to be  
  
And lift me up the living sky  
  
To touch eternity

Source: https://sofurry.com/s/Xekd975m