Distilled Moments: Life in Wax

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 67 another year older yesterday. This poem is meant to remind her of the many lives she has touched with her light. Happy birthday, Ma.