Flamebearer

(for those who walk both worlds)

Some glide in light—

barefoot through fields,

faces bathed in sun,

never knowing the weight

of shadows behind them.

Others sink in dark—

eyes tuned to murk

lips stitched in silence,

learning the shape of ghosts

by absence of glow. 

But then—

Come the ones

who flirt with flame:

Light scorches their necks,

Dark claws at their heels,

but still, they march—

straight-backed through thresholds,

into rooms neither knows. 

They see too much,

speak in tongues of embers and ash,

tell stories smoldering 

like coals beneath their ribs 

on dragon’s breath—

never at rest.

For to hold fire

is to become its keeper, 

a warning,

or wick.

They walk in both worlds at once—

not to be torn,

but to stitch the seam

where night and morning meet.

Photo by Marek Piwnicki on Unsplash (Free to use under the Unsplash License)