What a beautiful thing it is
To watch the lovers dance
The soldier and the ballerina
Twirling in the flames
Making sparks fly like water drops
Embers glowing and pulsing in the breeze
They lit fires with their love
Burning everything in their path
Their love far too hot to contain
They scorched a trail ablaze
Reckless and wild, young and free
Lighting torches in their wake
Such a tragically beautiful thing indeed
To watch the ballerina spin
Round and round her hero
Throwing petals at his feet
And the soldier standing proud
Fearless, brave and tall.
He beamed happily at his beloved
Swearing he'd fight for her till the end.
And this would be a good place
To press pause and walk away
Stop watching, their story is happy here
If you like happy, don't watch till the end.
Because what you'll see next is tragic
See, the lovers shone so bright
And burned so hot
They set each aflame, and both went up in smoke.
And when they looked back
At what they had and what they'd done
All they found was ashes
Wind scattering them across time.
And though their passion was fierce
And their warmth pure as gold,
They burnt out too soon
Like badly sized wicks that ran out of wax.
They settled like dust
Void of all life
As their embers grew cold
And their colors turned gray
And the lesson in this story
Is a simple one it seems
Don't make a spark if you burn easy
Don't set a fire to flammable things.
YOU ARE READING
Notes
AcakA glimpse into my mind. These are notes from my phone, starting from 2013 to the present day. My poems, rants, late night thoughts, things I've seen and heard, words I wanted to remember. (Note: There is some content hinting at various mature or tri...
