it's not a flame but a spark
fiction
edward w pritchard
It's not a flame but a spark. Flint and steel far apart useless with disuse. Near or far no touching and no eternal light. Just a spark gone from here and now traveling across the universe silently towards forever. Wash the streaky windows well in the middle of a dark lonely night to find your very own spark muted in the distant strings of galaxies drifting apart in the desolate night sky. Cup your hands to your eyes to create binocular effect for shielding out random noise. Feel in your bones the friction of flint scraping steel creating an imaginary remembrance. Turn your face backwards to be comforted by the warmth.
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