The Candle

I was cleaning out a drawer tonight and I found one of my old notebooks that I used to keep in my pocket to write things down in.  In it there were lots of little poems and haiku and writing starts.  This one jumped out at me for some reason though I don't recall why I wrote it.

The Candle

Completely hidden it lies beneath the flame of a dying candle,

Still hot to burn, but no warmth it gives, it’s burden hard to handle.

The smell of smoke lies close about the room that holds this candle,

But sweet it reeks and no hint it leaks of a burden hard to handle.

Who’ll take this thing away from me, this shrunken stub of candle,

I’ll carry it to my grave I fear and this I cannot handle.

I did not ask to shine this light that rests here on my candle,

Though others may get use of it, I wish it had a handle.

Maybe it reminds of of what I feel like when the weight of the world pulls me down and that has been on my mind certainly.  The last line seems to turn it around slightly with a bit of humor and pun about handling things but also because it recognizes that maybe the little light is still helping someone else.

I don't know but I like it and despite it's melancholy tone it makes me happy.  I'll take that.