When a candle flame withers from orange to blue

and the light it gave us dwindles.

When the scent of burnt wax fades on the air

and the warmth it shared cools.

Will we remember it?

 

Words written in it’s light, remain.

Books read by its loom can be felt,

the ideas, alive in our minds.

The scent of warm wax lies waiting,

ready, in our unconscious to waken

and warmth, still lingers pleasantly.

 

Can you see the candle in your mind?

Yes it was and still is there.

As long as you exist.

 

 

David Garlick, Puerto Vallarta, February 1998