A candle flame burns through the night

But gives me no warmth or light.

Instead the flame is black and cold,

A dark magic from tales of old.

The flame transfixed me in its spell,

It's purpose there I could not tell.

I only knew that it took over me,

I couldn't think, couldn't breathe.

My memory erased by that black flame,

Why did I come here? What is my name?

But through all my questions rises one -

Why did this flame not burn like the sun?

I sat there with the flame for an age,

Another footnote on another page.

But the flame burned out and freed my soul,

Which like the flame was black as coal.

The flame my judge for every crime

I've done, my judge until the end of time.

My freedom I must now forsake -

Hell comes now, my soul to take.

Copyright © Catriona Elizabeth Mowat 2006