Candles In The Wind
A poem
A poem
this world, our sputtering candle
in the vast dark.
we are the wick, the wax,
the flickering flame
we are the fragile, fleeting light
in the endless, impenetrable night.
the wick that burns, the wax that flows,
the flame that flickers, wavers, glows.
how easily we are extinguished,
snuffed out by the slightest breath.
how quickly our radiance fades,
consumed by the gaping maw of death.
yet still, we flare and sputter on,
defiant against the encroaching dark.
our tiny flame, a desperate beacon,
a declaration that we will not be stark.
for we are more than mere wax and wick,
more than the ephemeral fire we bear.
we are the resilience to rekindle,
to reignite when all else seems bare.
this world, this flickering candle,
it may wane, it may waver, it may die.
but the spark within us, it will not be extinguished,
not while a single ember dares to lie.
for we are the wick, the wax, the flame,
but we are also the will to shine again,
to burn brighter, to illuminate the abyss,
until our light becomes the guiding ray.
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