Weltschmerz
Years ago
the candle stick
representing my life
was lit by the spark
of the Almighty.
The flame flickered and popped
before rising in full blaze.
My candle burned,
quickly at first,
then more slowly, steadily,
as the wax began to melt.
Did the flame ever flicker?
Of course,
but it has never gone out.
And for many years,
the flame was as bold,
as it was life-affirming;
easily giving off plenty of light.
I’ve probably worried too much
about a sudden gust of wind
extinguishing my flame.
Yet now here I am,
my flame struggling to remain lit,
but with plenty of candle left.
“Just as a candle cannot burn without fire, men cannot live without a spiritual life.”
This poem was written on February 2, 2022.
