O, Candle!
Warm me so
Tinge the palm with soot
Feel the flame
Embrace ye whole
Flee not – to flirting brook.

Make my gelid
Heart whistle
Like kettle overrun
Stir not
With the Finger
You may end up losing some.

Be careful
Not to under
Mine or worse – estimate
The Joy
In Suffering
Is one most intimate.

Let the pain
Consume ye
And be met with greater bliss
For there’s no greater
Pleasure than
To burn as warm as this.