New life is brought to me. Young, I awaken. What am I? I can experience things...I can see, hear, feel--this isn't normal.
Colors. I can sense...myself. Others like me; tall...slender...most colored purple but the pink one across from me, and then the large, beautiful white one in the center of this evergreen wreath we are enclothed in.
People gather around us and lean in intently as a man strikes a small stick across the side of the box he pulled it out of...what is this?
Amazing light! Energy, Almost too brilliant to behold! So powerful and dangerous, even the man who wields it moves quickly before it can devour him as it has already done the stick he holds it with.
But, what is this? He moves it towards...me? Wait, no, this substance is dangerous! I...you cannot...
The man sets me on fire.
But...it does not harm me...no...instead, this flame and I belong together!
Together, like a team, a pair. As the flame dances and I hold it high above the air, the humans calm themselves, and begin to speak of something that sounds wonderful: Hope.
And then, they bow their heads and begin to pray. As they do so, the man pulls out another stick, but this one is different. It's metal, and has a long bell-shaped device on its end.
The man lowers the bell over the flame, and over me, and suddenly, the light is gone. The flame is no more.
I don't know what to think...if I even can think.
But, time passes and the box comes out again. Again, a stick is struck and a flame produced. But it is not the same one as before. And again, it was put out before the end of the day.
But I've learned not to mourn over these things. 'Tis a joyous occasion to watch any of the flames!
And so we continue, day after day. When the sun goes down, out comes the box, and a new flame is struck. At the end of each day, I'm a little shorter than the others. Gooey wax--flesh--drips down my side, but I tend not to worry.
A special day seems to come, and this time, the flame is given to both me and my brother,, another purple candle. The subject they speak of is Peace.
The room grows lighter each time he gives another of us this glorious flame. Our pink sister, Love, has been lit, and before we know it, Joy, the last purple one is allowed to hold this energy with the rest of us.
We have always waited a set time to light another, but this time, the people gather around excitedly. What was going on, the natural light still filled the room, there was no need for us.
But the man still took out his box and lit the small stick.
It was then that I noticed how old we had become. Joy was the youngest and still relatively tall compared to her original height.
But Love was almost a third of her height, and Peace shorter still. And I realized how far I had to look up, even to him.
Who says age is a bad thing? Nay, for it is good to grow older, and wiser.
And now, the majestic white one was lit, the Christ candle.
The Christ child had been born, and we were all here to celebrate.
We were candles, collectively making an Advent wreath.
All of this to glorify God!
