Wednesday, May 7, 2008

An Ode to the Candle Maker


Tears wax dripping to the spiritual flame
Burning, burning away our shame.
At end of Age, we carry along
A history of hate, and Wisdom's song.
Some things right, so many wrong.

But the dream of Innocence is born again
It grows in hearts prepared by pain.
We light new candles from the old
We gather back into the fold.

For within our wicked world is a wick,
~Always dancing~
To the flame of Eternal Love.

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