The Flame

I stare into the darkness,
hoping for a flicker,
dreaming.
My eyes deceive me,
I am at fault.
Impatience and self-
gratification is the cause.
O little flicker,
do I love you?
Or am I merely comforted
by yours.
I vaguely remember the flame,
the white ray streaming like
a river through the darkness.
O how undeserving I was, and am.
May I dare dream of
beholding it again?
Without it I am an empty shell
which ecoes of uncertainty.
Leaving only room for pining
and want for something to
fill it anew.
Forgive me.
What can I give unto thee,
when without you I am nothing?
You gave me all I have.
I shall give it back, for
that is how much I love thee.
I shall always be at want, without you.
And the thought of it brings me to despair.
You are the most beautiful thing I have
seen, your eyes I cannot describe.
The smell of your hair is the most
wonderful smell I have smelled.
And your voice brings tears to my eyes,
soothing and hurting every cell of my body.
Truly I should never hope to feel
this way again and I shall strive to
honour this gift by accepting none lesser.
You are not mine, and never shall be,
so I shall be bereft of being permitted
to call you my love.
But I am being unfair, forgive me.
It is ment to be so, as it is.
None are at fault.
Dearest, my dearest.