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Recognition by Mind

The candlelight is the burning image of my iris

I am pulled and locked into lazy hypnosis

Fluid flame unknownst to itself except through I

I am the shadows but also the dying wick

Transfixed by its beautiful dance I stare convinced

The fire is conscious for it can move my world

A conviction so magical and powerful I can see

Nothing exists except recognition by Mind


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Get Lost

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I am nothing more than a passing ghost through the dream you call life.


“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,

Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit

Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,

Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.”

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