The flickering light fought vainly against the dark.
Illuminating everything within the reach of its feeble glow.
Its flame’s soft warmth in a room so cold, the contrast stark.
The waxy runoff, a Rorschach Test, no answers show
Dime store candle slowly melts, Its base a tin can lid.
Feverishly, I watch the wax flowing smooth and hot,
Streams of opaque mysteries, truth still deeply hid
Cooling now its form now set, its shape the key I’ve sought
tapestry of archaic shapes that hold my sweet release
From this prison I have built, this place I do live
the candle holds the source of truth, the answer to my peace
All my days in pursuit, My everything I give
The flickering of the light a signal of the end.
The flame brightened then it’s dark.
nothing left to contemplate, nothing let to tend
the dark the cold the loneliness, so stark
Wax and wick were burned away,
its purpose now was spent.
Alone, I shivered in the dark.
The answer lost, I wept.