The Scattered Sparks That Fly

All I need do is gaze
upon the artifacts of time:
dust, desert, and sky;
the weavings and unweavings
that fall

…………….before the light

shines and vanishes;
to know that desperate look,
neither smile nor frown –
a hesitation in-between –
to hear

in the crackle
breaking over all things,
a sense of the murmur
in which life’s ruins
connect;

…………….reverberating,

…………………….communicating:

a flame within the flame


—S.C. Hickman ©2019

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