This candle
Has no wick
For the light
Which keeps on
Burning

Between
Each stuttering
Flicker
Of my dancing
Shadow inside

When flames
Must take
Their shape
Against what fear
Has chosen

As starbursts
Newly kindled
From an open
Jar
Which sits

Near dusks
And winter moons
Through windows
Wide
And empty

Contained
Like wax with reason
To dispel
All dark
Outside

Ignited
By this faith
As I flare
Those inner
Demons

Finding
Blazing torches
Among paths
I’d never
Take

If not
For miracles’ sake
At the hands
Of swollen
Embers

Where tongues
And second chances
Are the hopes
Which guide
My path

And prove
Some glow exists
Despite
Me sitting
Pretty

Like votives
Bearing flashes
Of a soul
That’s meant
To spark.

– J. Pigno