CANDLELIGHT

CANDLELIGHT

Winter evening’s

early darkness was

without.

I lay upon my bed.

Suddenly

the steady-shining

bulb above my head

flickered and went dead,

leaving night

within.

I rose in dimness,

reached out and took

a stout, old candle from

a wardrobe top.

I struck a match

and lit the wick,

seeing fleeting fire catch

and burn in darkness. Light,

small but glowing, gave

clear sight.

Small, single flame,

one drop of fire,

one solitary shining,

yet rays the cheer of light;

still casts a warm

lucidity upon each form,

dissolving the invading

darkness of the night.

Though it is but

a single point

of light’s creation,

all in its sphere receives

illumination.