Lines

Lines:
Strike up the flame,the tinsel a glow.
The powder like clay but soon it will go.
To mention it's name to those in the know,
Eyes dream away lost in their flow.
It's not really high,so where do you go?
For from everything where seeds don't grow.
Think nothing of anything,no cracks to ego.
Without crown of thorns or empty pain,
Cast your lines inside the warmest lake,
But know the hook has forceful bait.
The worm,the tinsel, the glow.