Friday, January 2, 2009

A Candle’s Decision

Two candles sat ‘pon the window sill,
As the eve came.
Both tall and white, waiting night’s thrills
Both the same.
One turned and said to the other,
“Twilt be dark soon.”
The second turned unto her brother,
“So comes our ruin.”
“Nay sister dear, ye look not right.”
Spoke the brother.
“For we were made to light the night.”
Answered the other.
“The nightlong hours are cold and bitter.”
She said softly.
“With measured strength my flame will flicker,
Shine not roughly.”
“Sister, sister, so dear to my heart,
Say not so!
For are we not candles made with art,
To shine not glow.”
“Brother, O brother head my pleas,
Ere we are lit,
Conserve your fuel whilst you appease!”
“I shan’t do it.
For my part, here comes the flame,
I am resolved,
The brightest flame shall be my aim.”
Lit were both involved.
The brother flame shone with all his might,
And then all saw,
And admired greatly his bountiful light,
Desiring more.
But the sister’s light was dull and small,
Almost unseen.
After the first hour she was forgotten by all,
Her flame so lean.
The night wore on with hours long on the sill,
Near night’s middle,
The brightly shining brother drooped looking ill,
His wick had whittled,
But the sister flame still stood tall and proud,
As her brother died,
Her soft glow endured through thick night’s shroud
Waxen tears cried.
Till dawn’s light drew near and came the sun,
And all did see,
Her flame was used to light the fire to feed and warm everyone,
For wise was she,
Yet as they sat round the fire they spoke of night,
One to another,
And all still remembered the bright light,
From her brother.

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