Folding the Flame

Most days he sits by the fire and doesn't move
Those are the days he thinks of it the most
All of the roads he walked upon his life chord
The tribulations from which breath could not escape
There are many amongst him who feigned to understand
They really would have liked to help him somehow
He was oblivious then to the pain he hid inside
Wielding it as a double edged sword pointed inward
Severing the joy of innocence and all its inner peace
The lack of present knowledge once kept him safe
What he wouldn't give to have known about the fall
In its absence though, the story does not exist at all
The fire wanes in the dying light of dusk upon a familiar sky
Quite at ease here in the solitude of his soul
He reaches out to something he seldom understands
Attempts that make him humble and whole once again
He never takes a single breath for granted any longer
Remembering all too well the suffocation from yesterday
Staring into the embers, familiar shapes are brought to life
Constructed jigsaws from past and present slowly unite
Half laughing now, with understanding and madness
An unfamiliar echo returns the sordid sounds
Except to where the wind escapes upon a northern light
Yet another road to trod, as the previous one has left his sight
All but the fiercest coals have grown cold now in dying blaze
The wind has commanded their silence as it sings its symphony
The floating orb above him is the only noted light
He wonders where the new road leads, though it surely matters not
Committed to its mysteries before he even knew its existence
Returning from where he came no longer a viable option
Collapsed are the memories and foothills he once remembered
The trails are graveyards now, hosting the brokenness of objects left behind
Just as well he assumes, for they never knew him anyhow
Refused to understand his compassion, Laughed at his naivety
Though just a boy of wonder, with dreams in a silver pale
He always feels at home when he writes the dreamer's tale