The Candle

Slow glow do not burn too fast  
light the space with yellow  
the moth in the flame  
not consumed retreats to  
seek the curtain folds,  
and slow glows the candle.
 
Wax descending the stem  
a collar of white cooling  
unconsumed about the silver stick  
sweet honey scent of bees wax  
a cotton wick bares the heat  
unconsumed as did the moth  
sleeping in the curtain folds.
 
Memories of Paschal candles  
hopes and fortunes in the yellow flame,  
on the windowsill,a torch for those who seek,
the flame, rock still, a call to those who seek  
a prayer for those whose faith has wained,  
the candle flame a common bond to  
share a place with the sickle,eternal  
from early man until tomorrow.
  
In the morning the flame will die  
a stub of wax . . .no more  
the wise will, like the virgins,  
in the story often told, seek another  
set in the candle stick  
waiting the evening once again.