burning candles.

It's been forever since I've written a blog post, but this afternoon my children gave me the gift of a nap and solitude, by deciding to sleep at the same time. This, truly, is the pinnacle of all miracles. (I need you to understand that this probably will not happen for another nine to fifteen months!!!)

October decisively beckons a new season. So to welcome Fall on this overcast Midwest day, here are some words that hopefully inspire reflection in the form of good ol'-fashioned poetry.

Happy Saturday. 

Burning Candles 

Candles were made to burn. 

The true essence of a candle

Isn't at all in it's appearance. 

The shell and the wax may be 

Attractive, surely. 

And yet, the candle's magic lies

Within the depths of it's fragrance. 

The fragrance has the power to 

Evoke memories and emotions;

Peace and stillness. 

The fragrance calls us back 

To home. 

The fragrance, though, comes 

With a high and sometimes dangerous price. 

A spark. 

Fire. 

It's not a roaring, destructive billow of heat, smoke and embers. 

It's quiet, confident, and fragile 

All at once. 

The fragrance comes after the fire. 

We are all candles:

Brown ones.

Black ones. 

White ones. 

All shell and wax at the core. 

It's our fragrance that's the sweetest,

That heals and warms and invites and calls others

Home. 

But there must be fire. 

Whether it's the spark of a breakthrough

Or the singe of painful loss,

Our fire calls forth our fragrance. 

Endure the fire,

For it's more than heat. 

It is hope, 

Rising. 

The fire is what makes you - 

What makes me -

A burning 

Candle. 

Ashlee EilandComment