Voices spiraling around a light so dim,
Flickering candlelight threatened by demon words,
Sometimes glowing brightly against the enfolding darkness,
Other times dying down to a mere glowing wick.
So easy to simply blow out the multi colored flame,
A strong enough voice, a strong enough wind,
And the light is gone,
The heat is gone,
The hope is,
Gone.
Salty tears fall upon the dying flame,
The candle's impending doom,
Forever fighting the voices, the wind, the tears,
Fighting to stay alive despite the dangers of the world,
So much, too much danger and pain,
At fault for all the hurt and the despair.
Because of the candle,
Everyone,
Cries,
Everyone,
Dies.
The light to lead the troubled home,
The light to keep away the dark,
The light to slay the horrors,
The heat to keep the cold at bay,
The heat to warm an icy heart,
Bestowed upon one single candle on a table in a darkened room,
Surrounded by the pressing darkness.
Alone, alone, alone,
Falling, stumbling, slipping, failing,
Giving into the voices,
The wind,
The tears.
Letting the flames flicker and slip away,
Fly away,
Die away.
Curling silver wisps of smoke all that remains,
Of the candle's friendly, blessed,
Soul.