the wooden slats of the blinds shut out the world
trapping the flickering gold that bathes the room.
candles dot the floor along the skirting boards.
by fire we are surrounded.
flames burn to mark the edges of our world.
as though it had such things.
the feast has been prepared
and the year is beginning to run out of days.
may you one day realise we are living our future memories.
they should be worth the remembering.
resolve to breathe life into the dreams
and scenes painted on the interior of your skull.
we are blossoming flowers whose colours drip
sweet and sticky from our fingers.
lick your fingers as you fill your cups.
raise them to praise this sweet communion.
even in dark,