The tiny, candle-light streams through darkness,
Piercing all barriers of the night;
In a place one tarries, then swings about,
Knowing heaven clears the path, thus bright.
Honeycombed wax holds solely a wick,
While bracing around a flame,
That melts the tower of time;
Spreading below, while losing same.
Where the path leads, is eternity’s age.
A clearing ahead is sought.
But without His charged brightness,
The end will meet with fraught.
That modest glow appears, oh, small!
The miracle of a lighted touch.
And flickering is ceaseless;
While we look to Him for much.
A blaze will surge upon conviction.
That ignited spark of light strikes hot,
While zeal and light billow,
The dark, dearth of fealty must not.
The brightened path streams unto heaven,
Unveiling angels with opened wings;
As chorales of peace on earth reveal,
The glory of eternity, that the candle brings.
Paul Yarbrough has written several pieces over the last few years for_ The Blue State Conservative, NOQ, The Daily Caller, Communities Digital News, American Thinker, The Abbeville Institute, Lew Rockwell _and perhaps two or three others. He is also the author of 4 published novels (all Southern stories , one a Kindle Bestseller), a few short stories and a handful of poems.