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The flaming key

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A key to a door--
is what I am looking for.
A life to a soul--
which burns quietly in a dark room
With a flame of fiery red anger
A subtle stab of pain wrings my eyes
which try to watch through that flame
To look and find something in the murky silence.

Perhaps it is my imagination,
to let that flame pierce my mind
I think it is a lie to say I am happy
That dull throbbing pain persists
These tears wet my cheeks
Silently is the game going on
And I, a mere spectre of my past
revolving in the faraway mist of time

Let the key come to me by itself
In this darkness I stand
My hands outstretched, fingers numb with pain
Let the silver sliver itself
into bright sparks of life
And ignite the very base of this heart--
This room; this door; this flame,
and this world;
For many stand there, besides me--
In the long, lonely and dreary wait.

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