Candlelight

A candle is lit afire
flames burning, serving as only light
nothingness surrounds it
dark and desolate
it engulfs the pyre and all its might

But a flame stands still, unwavering
the wax remains full, not melting
illuminating the solace of the room

And a wind begins to blow
from one direction, then the other
squalling away the innocence, replacing doubts

And now the tempest is in full bloom
the blaze fights back, dancing violently
yet it was useless, worthless, not too prompt
as the candle is slapped off of its base

Now the candle lies on the floor
where the candlelight still burns on a shortened wick
hesitant and unsure...