after the rain, the candles know that the gentle mixing of their wax is necessary. they know that only by pushing their substance over the edge and onto the floor do they truly fulfill their little candle destinies. like a latch, my heart opened and out poured its contents. a mess on the floor, but i pray that i will leave it there. it is here that i am alive.
after the rain, the candles know that their flames may just be a glimmer on the edge of a burnt wick or a tall tower of strong light, but that's why they have one another. flames change, thank god. can we see that this is necessary, this transformation of self and unsureness of self? that through community we can find our footing? i feel my arms grown strong with love. my hands are swelling, palms open and ready to hold more. love the one in front of you, i hear. this is the way to peace.
after the rain, the candles know that perhaps they know nothing. galaxies beyond and is there life out there? and what on earth is a black hole, she asked? but the candles can do only what they can do. painful submission or sought-after freedom? i don't know sometimes. yet, the candles give their light and trust.
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