The Candle

The candle

(A poetic response to “the metaphor” by Budge Wilson)

Candle,

Something can live forever,

Somehow, it chooses to light up itself.

The light is warm,

Soft,

But is also attracting.

Everything around is lighten by this tiny candle,

Everything around enjoys the light,

And the candle is happy even though it is burning itself.

The candle,

Keep burning,

Thinking that everything enjoys the light.

The light is still warm,

Soft,

But it is repetitive.

Not everything likes to be lighten up,

Not everything cherishes the light,

And the candle shines itself for nothing.

The candle,

Becomes smaller,

And it starts crying.

Nobody understands it,

And nobody cares about it.

The wind blows,

And the last bit of flame has been snubbed out.

Now there it stands alone,

The remaining of that candle.