Charcoal, abused by infernal contrast
exists only to support that which is
alone, cannot start yet can extend
until it pales and disappears.

Hope, kindled over a small fire
fed by obtuse promises
inflamed with burning passion
sometimes forgotten, left unturned.

Blackened outlook, charred…over-cooked.
Gingerly clawed at in futility,
knowing inability still attempts
yet physicality has no incorporeal form.

Hope phantasmal as smoke
observable but inquantifiable


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