Leave peace to the dying, for surely
they have nothing else left. You have everything, 
and the swift sure spark that says resist.  

Resist.  Your surrender is too precious
for just any master; do not practice for the grave. 
Death was not meant for such an office.

You are the body and the light, the silence and the night,
the killing frost, the great good work, the transcendence
and the fall. Do not make it easy.

Resuscitate that which is watchful, that which is wary.  
Be canny and cunning, and if your eyes must close,
feign sleep, and watch this world with hooded eyes.

Carry a torch.  Light yourself on fire. 
Shoulder the blaze and portage yourself, 
column of light.  Glow, ember.  Glow, spark.

Remember, your own feet can take you away, up, 
out, and into the darkness. All are guarded, none are silent; 
the world is generous and jealous of its beauty.

If you do not know what I mean, look at the snow:
Cold and deep, it lulls all to sleep, yet
it makes its own light, can blaze the world to blind it.
It is pure concert and cohort, company of beauty, 
flake upon flake, exploding from cloud
to take everything.  

This is what you must be—
the flame and the flake, both small light 
and brilliance, the inexorable force 
to fall, the beauty that kills, the wonder of spark, 
the wonder of dark, the knowledge that cuts, 
the music to which you are called— 

you and no other, you and all.

Letitia Montgomery-Rodgers - Both Flame and Flake (The Burden of Light)

Hello, we are Foreword Literary, and we are moving publishing forward.