Candles Flame

Light a candle in the darkness of the night.
Then sit and watch just what its flame attracts.
Spirits rise, sometimes no more than just an
agony expanding. Watch, just watch them
dance in spastic waves. Hear them scream -
no words embalmed, just banshees screeching,
sketching pain into the dull lit air. Sit quietly
through this.

Then suddenly a quiet breeze begins to wash
o'er everything. A silence that you've never
heard before descends, as if an angel gently
touched all air with feathery wings; and a
beauty is ascending from the depth of every
heart that ever learned to sing of love. A point,
a wash, a velvet stream, and dreams begin
to avalanche into our lives again. (How is it,
that mere watching can redeem so much in
just an air of solitary silence?)

One candle flame, and thus (inside) another
beast is tamed, as the power of pure memory
releases and relieves the feel of shame and
poverty of spirits left too long in emptiness.
Where once a lullaby would play, now the
airwaves fill themselves with hope and charity.
There, beneath the rubble, golden bars lay
yet unclaimed; yet in their independence
a vast light of great awakening appears.

Now every flame will draw another here;
for all the life we hold most dear comes back
into priority of focused thought and reeling
moods of blues. And so we come to pay the
dues for too long set aside, as hearts the
world wide are opened to the might of this
awakening of sorrow. We have spent our
long-held days of innocence upon a splendor
that we seldom came to truly earn. Yet now
the tables turn again, in a cyclic, shifting
moodiness that must upend the swell of those
emotions that we learned so well to hide.

For every tear, another fist will crash into
a wall. For every sob, another angry mob
will raise it's battle cry. Yet all the many
teardrops join together, creating a new wave
of healing empathy. We, the many, merely
left behind to wonder why and where that
mighty hatred might have found its hiding
place (in part at least, in each of us). Was it
there - within the anger unexpressed that day,
when so or so took actions (so unfair) against
just me? Or there, in all the lonely nights
one slept within a bed so all alone?

Someone, somewhere, now writes of this - and takes
the notes of newfound spirit's freedom and of bliss.
This too, must prove to be much more than an
uplifting; for so much of all the who of what we were
must come to change, even as our many lives,
in many ways must stay the same. But we will
never be the same again - not in our hearts, or
here within a state of soul that sometimes comes
to scream insanity.

Why...? Because these candles flame again.
When...? Right here, right now in this eternity
of vast emotion speaking out at last.
Where...? Right there, within each heart that
beats all life into reality.
How...? The choices range beyond the limits
of one poor imagination.
What...? This feel of love so numinous that
all divinity joins in the songs we sing.
Why...? Because these candles have been lit
and finally flame their way into our sense of life
in time and utterance of being once again...

? Michaelette ?

9/19/2001
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...