The Fire
As soon as rain,
at midnight getting louder,
Drowns anxious wasps,
that hunt both heart and mind,
Their humming fades away;
No predator above them
Will dare to sting your dreams
or choke your knight.
Below the strangled angst,
Which fled the conscious madness,
A frigid draft is rushing through the doors
And turning precious past
into a hill of ashes —
Once kept me tight,
though it must all be burned.
The fire catches rapidly in silence,
Not losing anything
but only gaining more,
While fuel nourishes the will inside you.
By drawing farther
end up always close.
The circle yet elongates to a spiral.
What seemed to be so large
shrinks to the turning point,
Where hesitation reigns
and sphinx its caring mother
Only this time the pilgrims have no choice.
Their restless mind’s
convinced of their power.
There’s no way back —
so they keep moving on.
Yet still, each floor
of always growing tower
Serves heaps of views
of what one night was burned.
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Submitted by podvolockaya_arina on July 21, 2023
- 1:00 min read
- 7 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | XAXXXXXB XXXXXBC XXDXAX XXXXAX XAXXDAXC |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic trimeter |
Characters | 1,153 |
Words | 200 |
Stanzas | 5 |
Stanza Lengths | 8, 7, 6, 6, 8 |
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"The Fire" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 10 Jun 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/164890/the-fire>.
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