Flame's first fire, maybe
is no longer as frantic for oxygen, or
flares as first-crackle high,
tracing wild shadows on darked walls,
yet yearning stays high and steady
obdurately unwilling to ebb or die
naked heat of early want remaining
evenly fed by red steady glowing.
Dreams don't willingly fade out
any easier than fire with fuel left
mad tenacious things that they are,
many hold on tight against grey reason
in the hard face of addict's bad odds
to re-ignite unbidden, blowing aside ashy logic.