The candle and the fire

        The candle is only a candle if there is fire on it, fluttering with the wind. They draw confused shadows on the walls, bring life to the darkness, and distract people and children if they join their fingers and hands to create images like a shadow play.
     Dishes are served romantically when illuminated by them. They are present when couples celebrate their complicity, their future wedding, anniversaries or when their love starts at the moment.
        The candle is only a candle if there isn’t fire to veil the body in a funeral, and everybody says goodbye, cries, hugs each other, and desires that the long trip doesn’t end in black. They symbolize another life ahead.
         They are on birthdays. The number of candles means each year lived, and everybody desires happiness for others.
        They lead the tripper throughout the dark road, who protects the fire with his hand, like a lamp. They lead people in their homes through dark rooms, and check every strange noise like in a labyrinth.
       They are in the religious parade in every hand, to adore images above the crowd, carried on the men’s shoulders. They illuminate “The Virgin” so that she puts together all hearts. Their warm tears fall and slide on the children’s trembling hands at the First Holy Communion.
         What would the candle be if there weren’t the fire?
       It would be only a piece of wax, paraffin, forgotten in a drawer with a matchbox beside it, prepared for an emergency, for celebrating men’s meetings, or the company for lonely people.
      They are in mansions or cottages, castles, or churches, with the saints and their hoods lost on the road. Or maybe with the unclean man waiting for his victim. She, the candle, and he, the fire, inseparable partners, turned into light.

Photo from:  Photo by Sixteen Miles Out on Unsplash

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