Words Can't Cover Me

Saved By The Sun

Flames kissed every inch of their body. Small sparks engulfing every inch of them, inside and out. As if the sun were a close friend, comforting them in a time of need. The warmth was breath taking, it had them gasping for air every single second that they could feel the fire dancing along their spine. Each silence, each moment they weren't together a spark would die. Once all the flames were put out, they would start to freeze over. The cold chill cascading through every inch just as the flames had done before. Here the sun was not a friend, here the sun was the enemy. Always kept at a distance. They never saw the light of day, never saw the light of a thousand flames burst, or ashes fall around them. They stayed in the cold, shivering, teeth chattering in the wicked frost. Their hearts froze over. The blood in their body stopped moving. And eventually so did they. Their vessel was stuck there, unmoving, incapable of feeling that lovely warmth. They waited and they waited, until their enemy, the sun, grew weary of their disappearance. It neared, slowly, taking a small step closer with each breath. Once the sun had reached them, it lent them its hand, picking them up and bringing them inside. The icy surface melted away and the preserved being smiled for the first time in years, unable to do so out in the cold. They threw down their coats and went to dance with the sun. Reawakening the sparks that had died. Feeling the warmth flood through. Laughing and dancing throughout their days. Creating new sparks, and becoming the flame for another. Often offering their warmth to the ones they came across frozen and abandoned with the cold glare of death in their eyes. They saved others. Because they remember how it felt to not be able to save themselves or any one else. So now, each time a spark has died, it is replaced. And rejoiced upon, never dismissed nor turned away from the kiss of the flame. They are not forgotten, but celebrated moving forward.