Ignite
paths crossed
Tremendous trial leaves hesitation, catastrophic reliance, pause,
Resuscitation.
Subject matter closed, breathing obstructed. Bits and pieces left unattended to be eventually reconstructed. Maybe in the next life, baby
Wax drools, fumbles, licks gravity, eyes flicker like a candle’s flame, hazy shadows taunt, tantalizing conscious sight, magnets oppose beloved friction.
Leftover coffee collects in the fridge waiting to be used as stale cold brew, a reflection of procrastination.
Without hesitation trial leaves tremendous catastrophic reliance, pause
obliteration.
Consult the tarot periodically, methodically, patiently await answers driven by mysteries.
Lessons scream, collapse and rip the matted rug, love leaves footprints in the walls
Whispering regrets.
Wax drools, fumbles, licks gravity, eyes flicker like a candle’s flame, hazy shadows taunt, tantalizing conscious sight, magnets oppose beloved friction. This is the next life, baby.
Resolve, resolve, but first we must dissolve like alcohol in the foaming heat, dryer than our bones that clung to each other a thousand years prior.
Us, you, me, them, don’t you see? You’ve already watched me burn.
Eyeballs rolled to the top of my skull, I knew, you knew, she knew, fire gorged, feasted, leaving us to ash and you stared, mesmerized, hearts melting.
Wax drools, fumbles, licks gravity, eyes flicker like a candle’s flame, hazy shadows taunt, tantalizing conscious sight, magnets oppose beloved friction. I’ve missed you, darling.
I watched a star explode and move opposite directions. It was then I knew fate took the long way around, obliging the laws of the universe, expansive, expensive routes rich with silk and saffron.
How modern could you get? Lost in traveller’s smoke still tending the horse just about to invent the horseshoe. Blacksmiths had hot, clinking lives.
We smoke too much, in every life. Light me up, without matches or a lighter watch me deep dive the toaster, stove top.
Electric gasoline coming your way, new make and model. Explosive at its best, when can we rest? Only after the test, yes, yes, it’s a proper mess. I want to collapse to my knees and beg. Let me resist.
Wax drools, fumbles, licks gravity, eyes flicker like a candle’s flame, hazy shadows taunt, tantalizing conscious sight, magnets oppose beloved friction.
Don’t you remember?
April, 2020
Unique train of thought, loved the ride. „We smoke too much, in every life. Light me up” - 10/10 x
What stayed with me most here is the sense of recurrence. The repeated “Wax drools, fumbles, licks gravity…” feels almost like an incantation returning between different lives, while everything around it changes—resuscitation becomes obliteration, “maybe in the next life” becomes “this is the next life,” and finally there is that haunting question: “Don’t you remember?”
I loved the sudden leaps between the cosmic and the utterly mundane. An exploding star and the laws of the universe coexist with leftover coffee slowly becoming stale cold brew. Somehow that makes the larger ideas of fate, memory, and reincarnation feel strangely intimate—as though the extraordinary keeps hiding inside the debris of ordinary lives.
And then there is fire everywhere: candles, ash, blacksmiths, cigarettes, gasoline, electricity. Destruction and ignition seem almost inseparable here. “Resolve, resolve, but first we must dissolve” may be the line that holds the whole piece together for me. Before something can take another form, perhaps something else must first burn away.
I'm happily subscribing because I enjoy writing that leaves mysteries smouldering rather than extinguishing them with explanations. I also write at The Reflective State, where mystery and the strange persistence of things across time are recurring territories for me. If curiosity ever leads you there, you might enjoy The Cobbler of Kussowile. I'd genuinely love to hear what you think.