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Current mood:  nauseated Category: Writing and Poetry
days to come stand in front of us like a row of burning candles- golden, warm, and vivid candles.
days past fall behind us, a gloomy line of burnt-out candles; the nearest still smoking, cold, melted and bent.
i don’t want to look at them: their shape saddens me, and it saddens me to remember their original light. i look ahead at my burning candles.
i don’t want to turn, don’t want to see, terrified, how quickly that dark line gets longer, how quickly one more dead candle joins another.
-c.p.cavafy
4:13 PM
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