Were When

I am inspired
by the hope of some fizzled ash
as it adjusts to darkness.
claiming whistles will blow
spools will unwind
and wills will disintegrate,
the very moment flame mistakes
tragic conceit, saddling
its very end.
then I am inspired
by the hosts rolling through drizzle
in the echo of twilight.
trailing life in passersby
chokes that tie
and notes to enunciate,
when every exhausted candle wakes
caustic majesty, maddening
its very mend.