The Fire
He sits alone in his desert.... contemplating.
He carries with him a small candle and a single match.
But, what good would these be?
The night is cold
And the candle could offer some comfort.
The desert stretches infinitely around him.
The flare of the match warms his face,
And the wind blows.
The man huddles with his hands cupped around the flame,
His back to the wind.
For a while he sits,
Basking in the small warmth and light.
The candle seems so small compared to the vastness of the desert.
Eventually he stands.
Chooses one direction over all the others.
Mostly to protect the flame, I suppose.
He hunkers against the desert wind
And carries the candle, sheltering the delicate flame.
Nothing is certain.
The man walks;
His thin smile is framed by the flickering light.
March, 1999
Randy K Wallace.com
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