The Brightness of being

In a drafty room
Void of life
A flame begins to flicker
Strong
Radiant
Almost steady
It is due to the craft of the candle makers will
That almost is all that is required
As each moment of luminescence allows the extension of His vision
Nature swiftly begins to realise
That this single flickering point of light
Will never be a phoenix rising from the ashes
Never anything so dramatic
Because this is an ordinary light
Not given to extremes
It is small and it is strong
So that when the winds come
Though the flame might splutter
And its brightness recedes to become a glowing speck on the candles wick
The flame will always return
To once again banish some small aspect of the darkness
But it does so in the knowledge that it is no solitary light
It was not simply created to expire when its wick is spent
It was created to colour
Just this very particular passage of time
Precipitating the opportunity
To gift others that follow a brighter flame
Worthy of the craft of any candle maker’s name
This is mortality
Our allotted span
As ever it was found
In the heart of man