Light burning on blue candle is like fire on clear blue water,
smelling like a wild blue flower. The light is constantly looking
upwards, sometimes swaying with the mild wind blow, but never the less
standing on its feet.
I wonder doesn’t it get tired of its erect posture? May be no, may be
it enjoys blissful unison with wick and wax.
This elegant candle is left, to lonely burn in the middle of the dark room.
I feel it is looking at me with sad eyes, pleading me to sit beside
and give it warmth. It is a bold fire burning for survival, rising
from its own tears looking around for a pal.
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