u/intothatsweetnight

I struggle to find a place for it,
The line. 
Normally,
When writing and I have an idea,
The idea doesn’t contain the ending.
Well, not at first.
Instead it’s like a spark
Into gasoline,
A flash
And a roaring wave of ignition
In which the ending
Naturally
Arrives just as it always does:
With smoke
And ash.
This time, though,
Was different.
I had found tinder 
In those words.
An image I could carry with me,
One that warmed my heart
And my hands
As I trudged through the day
Looking for my rest,
My stop,
A place to make mine
Through the night.
I searched through my mind
Through the heart of my vocabulary
Struggling and desperately
Trying to find the
Perfect
Place to rest 
The words of that 
Fragment 
Of a sentence,
And by the time I stumbled upon 
The correct way
It was already dark.
Before I knew
I had already written off line,
After line,
And poem
After poem,
Yet still those words kept me warm,
Patiently waiting,

Like embers in the dark.