Kylan Tatum: Hopeless Light
/Candles
Wax descends slowly
Like tears from
A weeping flame.
Boring its path
With golden light.
Sparks
Sparks don’t die,
Not in the slightest
Fleeting memories
Burn the brightest
The Golden Sun
What happened to the golden sun?
Its mist-shrouded glow
Masking its violent tendrils
Beating the earth,
Casting shadows
On all that moves.