Sep 2015
In the night
I watch the candle flame
cast its flickering glow
through its own transluscence
A tiny flame
of light in the dark
of warmth in the cold
It dances to the breeze of the ceiling fan
as if fanning a spark of belief in my soul
A tiny flame
to show the way
to point the proper path
We need no raging fire to light the way
A tiny flame is enough
I watch the candle flame
cast its flickering glow
through its own transluscence
A tiny flame
of light in the dark
of warmth in the cold
It dances to the breeze of the ceiling fan
as if fanning a spark of belief in my soul
A tiny flame
to show the way
to point the proper path
We need no raging fire to light the way
A tiny flame is enough
Written in June 2000, a counterpoint to my poem of the conflagration witnessed at the hands of a wildfire in the Santa Monica Mountains.
I have read this in public on multiple occasions.
I have read this in public on multiple occasions.
