DriftersOasis Logo


The Art and Passion of the Written Word
Online Fiction and Poetry since 2001

Serial Novels

Not sure what to read?
Try reading a
Random Story
or a
Random Poem

Other Resources

Submit a Piece
Update History
Privacy Policy

Public Service

Get Firefox!

$0 Web Hosting


To Flame, To Thee

by: Donovan Galway

What draws him near, the moth to flame?
It is as I am drawn day by day ever closer to that fateful day.
And each day brings the torture a day closer to me
And I feel the heat and the pain grows a day more.
But beyond the pain of that final day without you
I see the exquisite ecstasy that relinquishes all but joy
And love and leaves us in a world where the touch of my
Love is the heart and the sweet scent of you fills my senses
With passion and the taste of you is my sole purpose for being.
And so I step closer and I beg and pray that one more day tick by,
To bring me still one more day closer to that bliss that I so thirst for.
And a day closer brings it closer and yet so far that the pain
Of want grows and the anguish within me for my
Incompleteness of ne'er touching the fairness that is you,
And the final day will surely be the most brutal
And hellishly painful, for to be with you tomorrow
While it is merely today is such divine torture
And denial so absolute as to be exceeded only by the pain
Born of passion denied and purest of love unrequited
And thus the only pain greater than standing to
Within a touch of my love and yet not to touch,
Is that unthinkable devastation of stepping further away
And feeling your hand pull from mine.
I step closer to the day as the moth hurtles toward the flame
And knows the welling pain that grows stronger
And the searing heat that is felt more by the day
And the hour and the minute until the burning desire
Is all that exists beyond the thirst for what is beyond.
And at the threshold when the heat and the pain and the anguish
Threaten to consume him, he bursts through and is bathed in the
Warmth and is bedazzled by the flickering beauty and drifts
For a brief, fleeting interlude that is now an eternity,
In the heart of the flame that is his life's quest,
And the flame in my heart that is you.

As the moth flies to flame, I wait in anguish.
Other is life without and thus, death.

. .