candle

Midday Fingers

guiltcave holds strong

old stubborn wretched

but next to Love's mountain

sin and pain fall flimsy

for yours is grace robust, if quiet

and yours is grace enough.

that midnight breath: blow

those midday fingers: reach

to meet all depths and dirt within.

now Holy Blood [shed], 

and Holy Body [shred],

the Holy Man [dead]

...for rotten me.

So you are. 

More broken for my brokenness

Than my brokenness breaks me.

You are where I am buried.

Lie with me, and death shall not do us part.

First Fig

My candle burns at both ends;

It will not last the night;

But ah, my foes and oh, my friends - 

It gives a lovely light.

- Edna St. Vincent Millay

I know that this intense passion that fuels every corner of my heart is essentially youthful. It may not last through this whole fleshly life. But I don't mind that. I mind only to burn fully, wholly living out this flame, putting the light and heat to use. I claim to have no eternal blaze, but I hope all my young burning may be for the blessing of others, and for the glory of the one Everlasting Fire.

"They danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the one who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!""

- From On The Road by Jack Kerouac