Wax fell off his face like rain pouring off a precipice.

Before a shield, but now a burden, he had to bare other’s incredulousness.

But his passion still roared on in its own right fending off the night.

They could seal him away far our of sight, but not snuff out his light.

Reaching down into untapped depths, unveiling a width of wicks

They lit ablaze in a gloriful craze. Away his shell did drip.

That is, until his flame subsides, the wax rewinds, disguising what he once felt.

Cloaked will be his cotton wick inside a tallow stick

Atop the candelabrum reawaiting fervor’s kiss.

9 May 2017