Misfortune fated

Prominent and unwavering
The flame dances upon dripping wax,
Humoring its dark surrounds.

Luminous and magnificent
The flame mischievously licks the cold air,
Proud of its place above the shadows.

There the little flame flickers
Naively undisturbed,
Blissfully unsuspecting,
Wholly unknowing.

That the wax should melt from underneath it,
And slowly diminish
Little by little
Still oblivious to its grim fate.

Wax pooling and dripping
The wick begins to submerge,
And the flame realises it cannot escape
It’s misfortune.

The once stable foundation
Where little flame had formerly danced,
Had been all too deceiving.

Changing completely from one form
To another –
Solid to liquid,
Secure to unsteady,
Faithful to corrupt.
The flame suddenly realised it was surrounded.

Radiance dissipating,
The flame was slowly engulfed…
Feeble, weak, powerless
Dying.

And as the shadows crept forth,
Darkness took its reign
Mocking the flame in its final moments.

Then everything went dark at once,
And there were no more shades of grey.
Just an infinite and unrelenting blackness.