I listen,
hoping that I might hear your voice.
For though I know of you,
your face,
your dark hair and green eyes,
I know not where you are
nor from whence you came.
I know only that you did.
You left me
with a spark, a flame, a fire,
that I feel deep inside.
Perhaps, it was misguided
thinking it burned for you
when warm coals
flared at your touch.
As I reside in the dark,
in search of you, I know
closing a door for a draft
would be foolish
when this fire needs fuel.
Though I may not be close to you now
or ever,
the old processes resurrected
warm me from within.
This machine has awakened
and its renewed strength pulses,
filling me with a familiar feeling.
I can only hope that the wind will blow,
bringing not only fuel,
but the source of the flame.
