The Candle’s Flame
Burning to light my path and mind
The Candle’s Flame
I lit the wick with steady hands
in a room too dark, too full of demands.
The flame rose small, then dared to sway
like a pulse that knew it had to stay.
Not a blaze, not a beacon — just enough,
to keep the dark from calling bluff.
The wax dripped down like wasted time,
but the light held on, steady, sublime.
I watched it flicker, sharp then soft,
like a memory breathed from somewhere aloft.
Not pure, not still, not ever tame
just real, just there, just not the same.
It didn’t speak, it didn’t plead,
it burned for no one, had no need.
Yet it warmed the chill I wore
like a friend I’d never met before.
And when it died, it left no smoke
just silence deep, no vow, no joke
and I sat there still, unshaken, raw
grateful to light, and what I saw.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (4)
wow
A lovely poem about a small candle’s light bringing comfort and clarity in the dark,Really touching
The whole poem is great, but I think my favorite line is "The wax dripped down like wasted time" perfection.
This poem's imagery of the candle flame is powerful. It makes me think of how even a small light can make a big difference in the dark. Have you ever had a moment where a simple thing brought unexpected comfort, like this candle did in the poem? The description of the wax dripping like wasted time is really interesting. It makes you consider how we often view the passage of time. Do you think there are other things in life we might see as "wasted," like the wax? The ending, with the candle leaving no smoke, just silence, is quite thought-provoking. What do you think the poet was trying to convey with that final image?