…Perhaps I’m lucky I don’t have one
And I have to find a spark,
A match,
A candle,
An electric torch.

Sitting here in near-darkness, all alone,
I’m forced to find my own lights, yet again;
To brighten up this room and my soul –
Since it’s not very many who are reaching towards me,
Not so many who can stand the wattage of my electricity.

It’s best this way, Plato said:
Just leave them where they sit
While they watch shadows move and play,
Believe that’s all to it.

Perhaps I’m lucky, after all,
Since my blaze would shine so bright
Particularly when the world-at-large
Is stuck so often in eternal night

Better, perhaps to keep my eyes attuned,
Better, maybe, to learn how they move

That I can find my way around
Be safe, as so many others do.

This explains, though, I think
Why I’ve been drawn to Flames

(It’s that…
Or, perhaps, it’s my phoenix-like claims)

Maybe I’ll wake, enlightened,
To a little more truth.