A beacon

 

The wick was primed, lit and trimmed regular like 

the steadfast held on to the faint light of hope 

if not for thier all

but all others 

they shielded it from the wind 

and the rain 

fed it with love and devotion 

so it burned steady 

bright but not glaring 

and they had to look hard 

but all who searched 

found it 

and lit their own wicks

primed and trimmed regular like 

and just like that 

it grew and love 

happened 

because they became free 

because they could finally 

see.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

hope is a collective 

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allets's picture

"trimmed regular like"

I like that phrase and said it over several times. Light - we need all our candles lit into hope. Yes indeed! - Stella



Onyamaichi

 

Beatnik1979's picture

I

dig this.

We could use some of that right now.

I am The Most Cynical Optimist I can be.

And I have hope..

the Next designated wick could be you.

or me