Every Wick has its End

Tags

death, empty, fire, life, light

The gourd grows to be gutted
of its insides–we make a shell
out of life and then we give it face,
carving into it some static affect
so its emptiness may glow from
the inside out. It is in this way
that I am alive and burning;
as I am slowly rotting, only
to collapse into myself.