At first spark, we all are
Tiny, wavering creatures —
Needing hands cupped over
Our beginning fragile glow.
In our youth we blaze on
Carefree, shining in unison
With companions and loves;
Defying the winds that blow.
As the tallow shortens,
We bear the load of purpose
To brighten the path,
The dark, the cold — what lies yon.
As the wick is consumed,
We gleam brightly one last time;
Rekindling not the fire,
But, instead passing it on.
__________
My mother turned
As I have said, beautiful, P're. :)
ReplyDeleteThank you, P're. I try to make the most out of these brief bursts of inspiration whenever I can.
ReplyDelete