All Things Burn

I look at a candle and it is the flame that draws my attention. Watching its flickering bit of light, its tiny point that glows and dances in spite of the darkness around it, I am in awe.

I love this candle. It is big and thick, the finest of its kind. I take it in my hand and savor the intricate patterns and slight imperfections. I squeeze it gently and allow my fingers to explore the uneven texture of beeswax, both rough and smooth at the same time. It is a meditation within itself.

I feel its warmth reaching out to me and I know I am near the top, near the wick that glows with heat and then bursts into flame. Opening my eyes, I gaze deeply into the light.

It is the grand passion that calls to me, the beauty of something willing to burn so that others might see the light. Always I want the passion. I want to touch the soul of the creator that flickers within. I want to know the commonality that flows endlessly through all things. It is the poetry and the story, the love and the desire, the life and eventually the death that carries each of us through this world and into the light.

All things burn. It is the intensity which defines them, the light and the beauty of a flame that attracts one to another. It is the divine manifesting in a million different souls a million different ways.