January 7, 2009
I light a candle every morning, maybe because it glows, maybe because it's warming? It rests beside my computer pride, and there it shines, it's sheds it's light. As I type, and as I see, I see the candle, shining at me. I like the shine, I see it gleam, I seem to mind my shining stream, more than the screen, more than my work, at times the flame fludders and goes berserk. I hear it beam and I see light stream as the fire screams, only in my dreams. Only in my vivid, imagined, notions. I see the fires, flaming, oceans.