Here is a light, a flicker, a flame.
Don’t crowd it, don’t rush it, don’t sneeze, hardly breathe.
Give it space, give it time; let the wick burn and wax melt,
Watch it grow, watch it bloom, remember–always–how this moment felt.
For it will swell to an inferno, and gobble up all available air,
It will dominate your vision and thoughts, seemingly always: there.
But there will come a day when that fire, that flame, that light,
Begins to grow dim, feeble, a speck in your sight.
And you will wonder how and why you ever devoted so much time,
To this one little thing, this little illuminated lie.
And most, at this moment, will snuff the little light out,
Forget it, reject it, and spend the rest of their lives in doubt.
Much rarer the one, who will cup their hands around the flame,
Protect it and shield it, to rediscover the power it contains.