I reside within this insolid state
A whisper is words are life.
While my pitter patter invisible
Footsteps can ne'er give rise to sound.
And so I feel I exist as such:
A pane of glass, can only be seen
If cracks appear upon its face,
Or a hardback with a hundred thousand words
But only heard with a cracking spine.
For I have never felt the warmth
The light you hold and shine to bring
To life those you find within the dark.
Loving wax you craft these candles with
And light a wick to fiercely burn.
Here I stoke the flames to give yourself
A light to cast a thin, fine shadow
With open eyes. While here, do I hold this
Paltry candle, trying to keep mine own flame alive
Hope to see the light it brings,
But in darkness sitting, waiting in silence.