"In truth I am but a wordsmith surrendering my words to you....Kristy Tallman"™
A Beacon of Light
adrift in the flicker of a candle's dance, a breeze ever present, it moves about, to and fro, here and there, softly yet quite elegant in its portrayal of perfection, the flames hot to touch, warm to be near, a breath of fog in the cool air, words fall softly from the movement of lips, only silence is all the others can hear, their minds lost to the mesmerizing trance the candle's flicker emits, holding onto those who embrace it, the wax falls away with time, as does the onlookers of the beauty that dances upon the darkness as enlightenment is given and the beacon in the night is needed no more, a breath of wind blows away the feelings, the knowledge brought forth in playful shadows, extinguished are the dreams in a swirl of smoke as it moves upward to a place we can't determine, light is gone, sleep is on the verge of taking place in the quiet darkness lost now of the ficker of a candle's dance once a beacon in the night.
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