Poetry,  Written literature | Author's writings

I will never be big enough to light up the whole room

I am the Candle,
the cast of wax.
A wick is stringed through me.
Sometimes short,
sometimes long.
I’m lucky if it’s long,
but it also means I’ll burn longer.
It means that I’ll live longer,
although every time I feel like it becomes shorter.

I will melt my own body with tears,
whenever you decide to burn a wick
located in the center of me.

My tears and traces of sadness
will be visible on my body,
as unique shapes that you tear out of the fun.

I will do my best with my body strength
to slow down painful burning.
And despite all that,
sometimes I serve as your only one
light source.

Without me, you remain in darkness
and you’re only looking for me then,
never sooner or later.

Only when you need me,
but it’s okay.
I’m here to satisfy your need
and fulfill my purpose.

I’m a wax figure,
covered with different colors,
intended for various occasions.
So small compared to you
and so great versus your
interior light
which is almost non-existent.
From joy to sorrow,
I light up all the moments.
You burn me up and let my drops fall
down the body.
Drop by drop,
you shorten my life almost every second
but don’t forget that I am all around you.
I’m here when you pray and when you love, and when you suffer.
You protect me when there’s a storm,
you surround me, with your fingers so that I don’t run out of my flame.
You preserve me for your gain.

You admire everything that you can’t live without it.

But
I know you love the smell of my body when you light it.
You love looking at me so much
and my thoughts that are flying up in numerous forms of smoke
and disappear into the darkness.
After a long stare at the flame that I carry with me
and a sudden look away,
you see me again in different shapes.
And I know you love my smoothness,
except when I approach the end.
At that moment, I’m so small and hurt.
I smother myself, or you are extinguishing me.
Rarely you decide to save me for the next time.

But that’s good,
at least hopefully never again
we won’t have to meet.

And do you know how I become today
before I come to you for use?

First, they press me
until they straighten me to the ground.
Then, they draw the wick
through my unfinished layers,
after that, they decide the shape of my body,
putting me in the molding place
where I don’t choose whether I belong.
They cover me with melted wax
until I merge with it,
and we become one.
And, in the end, they drown me
and choose my size.

But one thing I know for sure,
I will never be big enough
to light up the whole room.
The corners will always stay dark,
just like the darkness in you.

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