empty cold

A single waxen figure

with molten base sits on a sill
reflection on the window pane
a tiny flame flickers in the dark of night
it waggles in a breeze that
has found an unseen cranny
between drywall and wooden frame

casting flailing shadows on the wall

that promenade as day light falls
and dances amidst the stars of night
with the tempo from  the candle light

a flaming arrow pierces

the black of sky as all sits still
and the eyes of nature
watches it race by

the solace and the solitude

gives rise to an emptiness of
a cold and vacuous night when
there's absence of a heart in
a living body or presence
of no soul