A Burning Question

I prod the funeral pyre of my ego
with a sturdy stick.
One made of a question
that is most dear to my heart and soul.
Skilfully mixing unburnt stubbornness
with leafy insubstantial claims.
Leaping flames gather force
the heat causing some recoiling
as it streams upon my face.
Mysteriously one knotted log
grows in size and has the name of pride.
The stick continues about its work
and as I begin to understand
the nature of the work at hand
stick and log they both burn too.
I am left to simply stand
with nothing here remaining in my grasp
and watch the embers gently glow
as I see that ego go.

by David Taylor

Comments (6)

wow friend, what an excellent, excellent poem! I can really relate to this (i wrote two poems myself about the same topic) ....The ego, a destructive, and at the same time powerful force....great poem, awesome stuff
love the imagery of the pride burning in the fire, very strong visual message for me when i read it. interesting! jane s
Skilfully mixing unburnt stubbornness with leafy insubstantial claims. This image held me for a moment, the truth of it ringing a bell for me quite loudly. Thank you.
I like your style David an introspective write revealing perhaps more of you than you realise. Bu that is something we all do I think I am amazed sometimes by what people read into my words that I had not seen
I think that we learn so much about ourselves on this site, perhaps it's an oppertunity that needed not to be missed A brilliant piece here again David Take care Love duncan X
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