When The Fire Dies

Living in the Gap

January 16, 2012 – Candlelight

The flame flickers and twirls, blackening the jar. Fire arcs and reflects as a half moon in a thimble of melted wax. Three pointed embers of the wick smolder and dance, multiplying into five and returning to three. The flare swirls and rounds into an ocean wave that crashes on the glass bottom. The flame rises as if its escape from the jar is imminent and surrenders momentarily only to regain strength to try again. The three points of the wick lessen to two, one blue eye and one red eye which stare at me in the darkness. Blue and whitened gold suspend above the eyes forming a stocking cap. The flame bows and stands erect, pointing at me as if to say “I am here now in this moment to light your way through this cold, dark night.” The flame stretches, swells, and waves until it disappears, becoming one with the night.

25 thoughts on “When The Fire Dies

  1. One of my favorite things to do during the winter is to watch the flames dance in a fireplace.

    It’s like a meditation.

    Beautiful, Suzi!

    Have a super Monday, my friend……X

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