The Answer

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.

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