I still have a candle unlit by love
in perfect and pristine condition
and it tempts me sometimes
to find what it takes
to destroy its manner of being.
Nothing, you see, should stand unlit
by love’s so enflamed desire
but it happens some times
when we choose not to touch
and know of the sizzle, snap, pop,
of the dead now come to life.
Maybe I will and maybe I won’t
because there’s beauty in the unused
standing still, silent, and waiting,
and waiting and waiting and waiting.
But even beauty needs to fulfil
its complete and utter potential
so perhaps it’s an act of cruelty
that denies a candle its flame.
More likely, I think, a lack of courage
for to despatch the perfect untouched
into the realms of memory
an act for only those who can know
memories of the sizzle, snap, pop,
live on for ever and ever.
I looked at that candle today
and I’ll look tomorrow again
in the hope that cruelty will one day beget
a courageous and honourable act!