When the flame burns low
We must be mindful
And trust its strength
The light dims, so we can see around more clearly
The shadowy places
Where our fears and unasked questions hide
The intermediate blur of light with the darkness
Rolls up a fog of uncertainty
Is someone betting I won’t last this fight?
The quivering light yields to the dark sometimes
Only to grow back from its diminished state
Slowly resuming its steady glow
When the flame burns low
We must be mindful
And trust its strength
The flame waxes and wanes, nothing is ever constant in the living game, over come to burn so brightly again... Andrew 10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That's so good... so true...