The candle

How have you made me?
Say not, With wax and wick and a taper trimmed.
For I am light and I am heat,
I am an evening spent alone
befriended by the memory of a scent.
And I am undone.

Your bright flame in my dark night
has unmade me, and in unmaking me,
has made me.
I, something, was nothing.
in becoming nothing, something,
my essence, to burn for you…
Some would call this sacrifice. Not me.

I am fascinated by the concept that true sacrifice—sacrifice made out of love—returns more than it gives up. The inspiration for the poem was a quotation of ‘Abdu’l-Bahá, Head of the Bahá’í Faith for many years. The full text is here, from which I took this quote:


What is our true destiny? That is the question the candle asks us. But where else would the light of truth and the heat of love come from, in this world, if not from us?

Thank you for reading The candle. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed it and I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.




1 Comment

Filed under Poetry

One response to “The candle

  1. Pingback: On Writing… | the Book of Pain