A Light for the Candle

Passion doesn't tell right from wrong. It lives in the moment. Its soul is fire and the fire has no mind. Underlying dream tells its truth in the welcome slumber. Awareness is suggested. It stands in the shadows of heat. A doorbell stranger with eyes in your eyes threatens to disturb your concealment. The noise of the street is begining to be heard. A child awakes to the suckling mother. There is war in the world and madness is on the stage, and they are dancing in the aisles. Definition is unsure, understanding is impossible. Confusion screams at the overwhelmed. What once was love has become a fleeting glance, eliciting words that should not have been said, and kisses that shouldn't have been kissed. Truth has been eclipsed in the crazy nighttime, and the day has come to hide. The day where once we cared and were loving. There is not an understanding silence, but a refusal to answer. There is nowhere to run, and passion grows red when seen in the mirror, and asks for forgiveness and offers to help. The fire turns to the summer and the summer speaks to the heart from the heart of love. Somewhere there is a warm embrace and a kiss that should be kissed and the words of feelings are tacitly accepted by a grateful stranger. The world has become undead. This world is full of strangers, its the point where music brings a light to the candle.