I am a candle burning low
Most of my essence has dissipated into a faint scent
Only a flickering light remains
I have survived the winds of change
And still I glow
Remaining on the altar
A reminder of how a flame will rise
From the tiniest sliver of resources
Mine will burn beyond the horizon
Long after the wax is disappeared from the jar
And my place in the chapel is gone
" ... a flame will rise /. From the tiniest sliver of resources..." Yes, it will! I am not sure, but I think that tiny sliver is called hope? This poignant poem gives all your readers much needed inspiration, Sharon -- especially Californians Thank you for the reminder.
Oh golly, with everything that's going on over there this is just the perfect post. x