Burning

The candles want to burn
who who am I to hold them back?
There is something perfect
about fire, contained
a calming sense of order
as the tiny flame hovers
quietly, solemnly
above liquefied wax
I feel my own sorrow
crackling like brittle wood
at fire, released

If I burn all the candles down,
every single one,
maybe it will release me
from clinging to dust and memories
the truth wants to be known, fulfilled
holding it back won't stop time,
but it might drive me crazy
it might destroy me