Pendulum

My wandering gaze falls upon a tea candle.
Its naked, erect wick waist-deep in ice-white wax,
Its head aflame like the nimbus of a guilty angel.

I look for it.
I look for it in the flight of the clouds and the turn of the hands.
I look for some punctuation to this sentence.

And I find myself afloat on an ocean of doubt and self-hate...
Fingers dangle...
...never get wet.
And look at how fucking beautiful the clouds are...
And the birds...

The birds pecking at the dead leg.