Crumbling Visage

Candles

Abstract descriptive piece 

A light is meant to obtain a revelation. Sometimes they are pleasant and sometimes befuddling. I have always been fascinated with lights that shine softly- as though just wanting to make things known but never dominating and asserting its own presence and splendor.

A candle flickers and wavers and casts a dim glow. It is unsure of itself and is not brave enough to stand its ground against the tiniest wisps of air.

I was once unlike them. I tried to assert and be brave in my assertion- admittedly never brave enough to explore the full extent of my glow or be chivalrous enough to be unwavering and wallowing in pride and self-deception. Yet I stood with the kind of light that was enough to see yet never to blind.

I am dubious like the candle now. My light is not as strong but enough to soothe and really, I have always been fascinated with lights that shine softly. I do not regret it nor see a cause for this transition but it is me, regardless.

Only, now I am unsure whether to yield in to the temptation of melting in a puddle of wax that stays firm and unyielding. It's so easy in my diminished state- the stature of the candle has been reduced to a stub and the light has been extinguished. All I need is one last light- one last glow that will both be enthralling and the end of me. As I burn out for the last time, I will be in the dark and everyone will only see the soft, far-off light. They'll smile and be enthralled by it- unknowing of the fact that candles melt and exhaust away- leaving just a pool of wax to scrape and reminiscence of the revelation that a light is meant to make...