I love the way a candle burns. I marvel at the simple complexity. The flame is so small and compact and the process of its twisting destruction is so smooth and so steady. The potential and actual deconstruction to its host, the candle, is so complete; so final.
Fire is deliberate and ordered in its operation yet so beautifully hypnotic in its performance.
Bright and alluring is the flickering transformation of matter, tickling as it devours the wick and wax below. The melt is slow all the while the flame dances, as the wax quickly skips and trickles down the cooler sides of the candle only to freeze again at rest.
I love the way a candle burns.
Seductive; so seductive in its sensual call akin to caressing the back of a beautiful young woman up to her neck then slowly down to her shoulders. Fleeting is the taste of her flesh as mouth and tongue glide down the line of her spine to her quivering curves waiting below.
Subtle in its dimming and lighting; at times intensely bright when it shows its teeth in a steady burn and other times when it slowly swallows the wax it cools and heads toward the dark steadily treading that line between sight and blind.
Destruction is seduction; slowly moving the tips of my fingers across her breast with light touches and circular motions on her nipples. Her head tilts as my touch breaks down her reserve; as I further explore her back with hot puffs of breath preceding the coverage of my lips.
All as a periodic winding smoke twists up from the wax and flame only to lightly disappear above.
As the moon and the stars do endlessly turn distances away so does the candle burn below; so do the physical loves of my life, everyone’s life in every passing moment; in sweeping memories that make an existence whole.
I spend most nights in the glow of the moving light first moisturizing her flesh to keep it supple. Then as time ravages existence and her flesh begins to tear and fall off, my time is spent rearranging her bones and the remains of those townsfolk we were once in prior lives.
I have carefully collected them. I keep them sometimes together, sometimes as mere acquaintances and other times passing images with only a slight wisp of a view.
All times in the past played out over the generations we did fulfil our roles deeply knowing and believing of the connection within our hearts. Destiny may have trapped us in this space, this village now turned city, but it is fate that keeps our deep binding love for one another alive over time.
The spirits have stopped coming through my floor. The manifestations of what has gone have ceased to post their claims.
This can only mean she has found a found a new host.
I needed to find her reincarnated form. I began my search for the vessel her soul needs to save. My love won’t be re-born as an infant, as some virginal blank slate.
No my eternal love will steady some soul in turmoil. My love will use her experience and knowledge of decades and centuries past to quell the miseries of the present and the living to deliver peace.
Our love is heroic. Our love is medicinal. Our love is transformative.
Think of a caterpillar and butterfly.
This is the way it has been for us for centuries; saving those in despair and allowing themselves to reclaim their very existence. We guide the troubled. We are healers. We are saviours. We have been that for all of time. Such is our roles upon this plane doing the Lord’s work.
And as our reward we share our love for all time.
With her dead now, ravaged from that insidious disease and by my hands; I need to complete my promise based upon her release in search of a more productive form. I need to find her again. I need to nurture her again. I need to reclaim her and her love.
And I have succeeded.
All we are in our most elemental form is a single point of light. We live a shell that slices and decomposes so easy. We support a frame that crumbles and snaps and bleaches so quickly in the sun. Ironic though, for beings who, in their most elemental form, are bags of water generating pure light.
I waited and waited so patiently for a sign to rise above that most loved form to signal me that she has been found. I walked amongst them to discern the most troubled and find the one in most need so I can reclaim her and care for her until the date of the next of our deaths.
A single point of light hovered and nestled ever so close to an aura dimming and deteriorating. I knew this is where my love would be. A single slender yet bright point of light where it’s always been…
That is the light I saw above you…
“I can hear you but I can’t see you. Where are you? You seem to be all around me. Who are you and how did you get in?”
You shiver; are you cold?
“How did you get in?”
Floor boards have spaces my dear; floor boards also move. The smallest cracks and slivers will always allow me and my kind to move about freely. Until I find the light again all I am is an inky black mist. Your recognition of our love will restore me to a physical form.
“A black shadowing mist; I am still asleep. I am still asleep jibbering nonsense the same nonsense my brain is running before I can wake…a dream. This is a dream; just a poorly configured nightmare …Yes there is no one here. I should stop watching those films…”
If this theory allows you peace; then please partake. But you have nothing to fear. You should rejoice at the deliverance you are about to receive. You have the light. You have the redemption for both of us.
“I have to have another drink…maybe I should make that a joint…”
My darling it is the bondage created from drink and other synthetics that you will be delivered from. You will no longer need to hide from reality. You will no longer need to be numbed into relationships where you are treated as dirt. You are the light.
“Smoke? Oh my God is that smoke?”
The mist rises slowly, twisting ever so slowly up from the floor. Look at them. See them rise as if lit from a flame. They are so pure in this form without any physical deformity. They are so pure in their wants and desires because they are simply stripped to their essence where the light can show through.
“What? ...”
Hush please hush my darling, hush, please. Don’t you understand you are my one and only? You are my single point of light.
Hear them? Just listen to them. Hear them? Their whispers are beginning to grow. They moan long and hard. They sigh soft and sing high. They dance and revel in what they have become. They revel in their fate…your fate; our fate.
It’s the eternal life of the collective. Watch them as they manifest. See the resemblance?
“Stop I can’t take this! I need this to end…I need to sleep. I need to get this out of my head.”
And so you shall when I strip you of your flesh and bone and claim your soul to dance with me for the ages just as I have done with them.
“Why won’t my light go on? I can’t move… I…”
You are slowly paralyzing in place. It is for your safety. You shall remain as such until the mists can overcome you and become one with you. Think of it as an anaesthesia as I remove your flesh and bones and deliver you to your rebirth as one of us.
No longer will you be shackled by your emotions or the need to be numb. No longer shall you be limited by your fears. Let them slip into your mouth and pours. Breathe in the mist. Breathe in your earlier lives and experiences and recognize them for what they are; your redemption.
Let them penetrate into your mind and soul. Don’t resist because in the end you cannot. Deep down you want them inside you. Deep down you need them to aid in the completion of your being.
Feel them as they surround you; as they slowly wind and wash over you, caress you and become reunited with you. From centuries and decades past they have returned to you so you can return to me and light our way into the future.
I love the way a soul can be extracted. I marvel at the simple complexity. A person’s soul is so small and compact and the process of its twisting destruction is so smooth and so steady. The potential and actual deconstructions from its accomplishments made to the human form are so complete; so final.

Modify Website

© 2000 - 2019 powered by
Doteasy Web Hosting