A stub of string stands out from the black hardened wax.
The dark shiny rod stands
isolated.
It’s been burning for some time now.
Light is fading.
A cold night wind is blowing.
Where is the moon?
The Lady of Chastity has disappeared.
The diamond of the sky corrupted.
Looks like another storm tonight.
The windows are shut, but a gust still invades the room.
The hot flame flickers.
The light dims and brightens,
as if it is mocking and teasing.
Not even a glass wall can protect it.
An imminent gloom threatens to swallow the space.
The wind never stays still for long,
not around here.
A larger power always threatens to dim the light.
Time is running out.
It won’t be soon before the shadows come again.
By then, any chance of relighting the flame is almost gone.
There is hardly any hope.
It comes suddenly, like a thief at night.
And then,
