Always searching,
For a new light;
An old light,
Lost it seems,
In the dwindling,
Campfire of memory.

Once,
I was a fire,
And the hunger,
Still dwells lurking,
In the corners,
Of arteries,
Waiting to spring forth,
Boiling passion;
A banked fire gone wild,
Shouting down forests.

The taste of conquest,
Stays tongue hidden,
In caged lions.