The Candle (Part 2)

In a box, kept in a drawer
a candle sits and yearns for more.

“To be lit,” it contemplates,
“is all my very life awaits.”

So it dreams of flame and light
whilst all around is darkest night.

Day by day it thus remains
as wind and snow give way to rains.

In that drawer, next to the box
amidst the pins, and bits of clocks

Lies a match, gladly ignored;
One use, and out its life is poured.

“Here I’m safe,” it thinks, relieved,
and so abides, nothing achieved.

Day by day, it seems content,
as rain gives way to flowers’ scent.

Then one day, appears a hand.
(Its presence neither one had planned).

The hand selects some spring or bolt,
and leaving, gives the box a jolt.

Into the drawer the candle falls
and wakes up from sleep’s gauzy halls.

Jostled thus, and quite amused,
the match says, “I’ll bet you’re confused!”

Quipping back, the candle jests,
“Is that how you greet all your guests?”

So begins a fine debate,
that lasts until it grows so late.

Finally, as such things do,
the laughter turns to something new.

The candle sighs, and whispers low
its deepest wish: to glow, to glow.

the above is all that was written on December 31, 2008, and stayed in that state for almost 3 years. I did not know what the next part of the poem was until now

And in that drawer, as days grow long
the match and candle make a song.

Each learns the notes the other sings.
They make up words of many things.

Of sand and trees; of earth and sky
they sing until their voices dry,

And then they rest, to dream anew
in colors gold and Prussian blue.

But still the candle sheds a tear
for something far, or maybe near;

For burning brightly in the night,
and turning darkness into light.

And in the drawer, next to the box
amidst those pins and bits of clocks

The hand appears and hunts about,
then finds and lifts the candle out.

It then returns, the match to take.
At last! At last! The light to make!

And so the match is struck, and burns;
The candle’s wick to brightness turns.

“Oh, match! Oh, match!” the candle cries,
But soon the match’s fire dies.

The match says, “Now at least I know
how beautifully you glow, you glow.”

Ah, but still unfinished, I hope.

Los Angeles, September 29, 2012


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