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  • Writer's pictureJared Gines

A Candle's Light

While lighting a candle on this misty night,

where the space between spaces exists sans light,

I pray for the wind and the earth to gift me,

my truest desire, the future my heart sees.

Hearing the whispers of the leaves and branches,

the laughter of wolves, the breeze which dances

to the tempo of moonlight that questions my soul,

I kneel to the candle, waiting their toll.

They whisper the price which I satisfy,

I gauge my old eyes and the weary sight dies,

letting them burn, smelling the flesh,

smiling, knowing I’m starting afresh.

Sans sinful eyes, I finally observe,

the surroundings, the beauty that nature deserves,

I feel the spirits, caressing my skin,

hoping to learn my wishes within.

Then all stops; no noises, no breeze, no rustles,

All questions cease on the spiritual puzzle,

For my wish is granted by the Mysteries,

All-knowing beings that learn my misery.

I see without sight my love, my pillar,

Their wispy hair dancing a river of silver,

Stretching their hand, telling its time,

Giving me comfort, their gazing sublime.

I wait for a moment, looking the wick,

Thinking my decision needs to be quick,

Without hesitation, nor emotional disguise,

I gleefully embrace them, and the candlelight dies.

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