11: Eldflugor

Daybreak slips away at night’s edge
No matter the hells we’ve strained
Nor do any figments of impossibility
Remain so ineffably unlikely
As capturing loose essences
Disintegrating just within reach

Yet we grasp in mirthless defiance
Trembling hands far reaching
Through ashes their piles heaping
Memories abound us fluttering
Those light flickers and trapped rapidity

Far do our voices echo
In those attempts ineffectual
For all our narrow efforts
Who knew we would always invoke
Something brighter lacking order
That which flickers, and flickers
Burning beyond wandering eyes
That which flickers, and flickers,
and dies.

Still it fades, still we chase
That night’s edge fading at daybreak

Harlequin Grim

Voice of the Mania podcast. Author of macabre tales.