’tis the season for lighted candles and much reflection on the year’s end.
Does your flame flare with intent to ignite or are you just running to the end of your own wick?
The small flame
Illuminates the waxen still corpses
Magnifying the shadows ominously of the sleeping
Beside it, like a friendly, taunting threat
That its tiny stature
Is every bit as potent in possibility
As the fires raging
In the hearts of those that lie awake
Reading the truth of their souls.