Defiant Blaze
by Dawg
Amid the graveyard where night’s cold breath prevails,
a warmth flickers–insurgent, taunting marble, taunting bone.
Its laughter leaps the headstones, a misfit flame that never fails,
tracing forbidden paths where the long-dead groan.
Every ember is a scar, an echo, a promise disobeyed,
kindled in the marrow, bold against the frost’s decree–
a beacon where the silence slumbers, unafraid,
lighting the forgotten with heresy, wild and free.
This fire rouses dust and memory, defies decay’s grim hand,
whispers bravery in cryptic tongues, pulses against the stone–
it tells the lost and vanished they are not unplanned,
stirs a mutiny in shadows, chills despair to the bone.
Chill wind taunts, grave-damp and spiteful,
but the flame answers every challenge, roars back every test,
refuses dusk, refuses hush–remains bright and frightful,
turns the stony heart of darkness into a vagrant’s rest.
In the land of permafrost, where numbness claws and weeps,
this fire forges riddles, unravels every lie–
defiant, savage, undeterred, it sprints while the whole world sleeps,
a madman’s spark that dances, will not die.
Each step is arson, every moment a burning theft,
resilience laughs at rot, as embers leap from cold decay–
warming ruined marrow, coaxing courage where nothing’s left,
the blaze a vagrant anthem, turning night to day.
So the tombs become a gathering for misfit heat and wild light,
a challenge to the darkness, a rebellion waged in flame–
where the cold thought it reigned supreme, defiance owns the night,
and even death is forced to marvel, to remember your name.