Flame

Flame in the dark
Shines in that place
Of no trees, no grass.
Shines on the rock
But here there is
No rain, nor sun
No flowers, nor bees.
Shines on the polish
Of many dirty hands.
Shines on the wet
Of the running stream.
Shines on the mud
Of millenniums past.
Then moves away
Up into chambers
Silent chambers, dry
With hanging forest
Of thin, hollow straws
Lined with stone curtains
With pillars of white.
Flame follows trodden
Path on packed floor.
Flame moves to explore
Passages, creeps and more.

Martin Delemare

20th February 2008