The unlit wick
I search the world for light and warmth
while, apparently, my heart is made of tallow;
no way or will on earth or within
to spark the unlit wick
but, You promise over lifetimes
adversities and satiations,
acquiescence and perceptions
will scrape away the crust
the whole ball of wax;
its absolute vulnerability
to flame and dissolution.
When poverty comes from accumulated wisdom;
when love cleaves from romance and desire;
when heartache reveals its inherent beauty;
when grief becomes a humble dismantling
of the false by grace
will the interior candle be lighted,
the veils catch, the whole tinderbox house
go up in flames.
O child of God, you seek light and warmth.
The Godman is the bearer of the torch.