Essence Poem by David Taylor

In each a flame burns bright
right in the centre, not in sight.
A flame that never flickers
in the wind of plights or bickers.
A swarm of thoughts,
imaginations often wrought
of past deeds and what is sought.
Like a cloud they follow and obscure
that light that has its essence pure.
In the eyes it's always seen
no matter how deep the dream.
And in speech its flames reach out
unless concealed by fear or doubt.
A light so pure it casts no shadow
and given freedom spreads far and wide
to join with all where light resides.
No matter how dim and dark
it will not depart.
Even in our final breath
that essence will persist.
Some say it's soul,
some say it's life.
That flame that always burns
so pure and bright.