The ashes will always glow for you but everyone around you just seems to be waiting for the last few embers to burnout. The young and aspiring birds fly far from you and honestly, who would want to allow your flickering flames to scorch them? They’ve all tried. Sprinkled you with water droplets, drizzled on you and finally showered you with buckets of icy remarks but you refuse to leave your weak ashy stats to bloom into something more, the next stage of your journey perhaps? Then of course there’s the grey engulfing smoke you continuously emit, a distant memory of the mighty roaring fire you used to be. The dying coal, without any pattern, burst alight, a sliver of the parks you had in your life once. What you’ve done to yourself makes me want to weep at times but I hold it together, trying to be the one constant boulder in your life, the anchor to keep you grounded, the one who’ll always stay, always offer you a seat and strength. But they forget. I’m not yet strong enough to offer you any real support, showering you with pretty words instead. Sometimes I feel that waiting for you to change is like ‘wishing for rain as I stand in the desert’. Your gradually greying ashes have the potential to burst into the glorious flames they were but you just need a gentle stoking to make you come alive again. It’ll be like finding life in a hopeless place <3 Then we can parade you through the dense forest so everyone can see your beauty, it’s what you always wanted, wasn’t it? Attention? Acceptance? Applause? But on your ‘Cloud 9’, the wholes and gaps are widening. You left something behind. After the clapping fades it’s just you and your little helpers but where are they now? They’ve gone. You forgot, the need timbre and dry wood too. Now they’re in ashes and the whole cycle begins again.
Where only my thoughts have been
Take me to the moon
