“The One remains, the many change and pass; Heaven’s light forever shines, Earth’s shadows fly…” Shelley
It’s a frozen, gray sky time of year and I light my candles often. Something about the small fire alive on the wick, bouncing by its own burn or draft whispering by…I’m caught and brought closer.
I feel as though this little flame comes from a distant, grand hearth with a choir of candles scattered about in two’s or three’s, silently serenading a lounging family–warming hands, warming hearts. That from this kind of past, my flame has descended…
As a writer, hearth-side scenes are my favorite. Peaceful pauses and thickening plots–expressions lit by fire and shadow.
Even now, my one candle spreads its light across time and story–sparking memory, adventure, inspiration…books can do that. The flame reveals the gilded titles, the titles reflect the flame, enticing and comforting all at once.
Unlike the moth drawn to its demise, the flame that guides our hands to golden words can rescue us, fuel a brave heart, calm an inner storm…if you’re a reader, you already know this.
Like many, my name has been hot-pressed into my leather Bible cover–MY NAME, branded in gold. It isn’t any wonder when the opposite happens: the Word branded right into me instead. It’s an ever-kindled truth we’re told to keep alive. (Romans 12:11) A living coal, a holy fire.
And by this, we thrive
And see, with open eyes, the word and flame are one and the same… (John 8:12)
Until Next Time,