A Candle Weeps

**Sits cross-legged** Let's see. I think it's time to reveal another secret. This time, I'll let you, Dear Reader, in on my favorite living poet. Poetry is pretty much the most intimate and vulnerable part of me, and the poems I resonate with strum pretty close to my heartstrings. 

This young man/old soul is incredible. He hails from England. His name is Anthony, Anthony Anaxagorou. I don't know if that's his actual birth name, or a pseudonym. I haven't wanted to pry too deeply into his world. I like him just the way I enjoy him now. That's a photo of his arm up there ^^ with his latest tattoo. He recently returned from a trip to the Far East.

He has a web site and a Facebook page, and some Youtube readings. I found him about a year ago by way of a video reading that knocked me out. I have been in love ever since.

Here's a sample from his forthcoming collection, "A Difficult Place to be Human":

A Dinner Candle And Me - by Anthony Anaxagorou

On this night an old dinner candle asked why your chair 
happened to be so openly vacant 

I could see how alone it supported itself 
that halfway lighthouse which would lift both opaque shores 

I spoke to its lambency in a voice composed by sorrow 
a raucous testimony full of wet wine low down 

The more I tried to elucidate your leaving 
the more it would flicker and squirm beneath the words 

Shrinking wasting that splendid stature we both adored 
with each bruised syllable that left my mouth 

I could not stop even through the bulbs of burning tears 
that rolled down the side of its softening body 

I could not stop as I watched it become an embarrassed mess 
with all anguish eating away at such proud form 

A struggling glow was all that remained to say you once had loved me 
and I too had once loved you so thoroughly so unrestricted 

A melting face whose tiny ears were at last to be swallowed 
by the flame of such agony dying to the only story it was unable to bear 

And I finished in darkness. 

I love the imagery and concept of a candle collapsing under the weight of sorrow, crumbling. A candle personified. Imagine that. 

Someone dear to me shared the following song. Candles are special to me for many reasons. 

As far as I can think right now, a candle flame, and love, are the only things that can be shared with endless others without reducing the capacity or intensity of the source. And so it is even more poignant for me to envision a candle mourning.

I will never see candles the same way again. The power of poetry. Thank you, Anthony. 

For more about Anthony Anaxagarou, click here.