Posted by: syncopated1 | January 18, 2012

A glimmering.

It’s like someone lighting a single candle in a pitch black room.

There’s first the sound. The scratch of the match or the “shsk” of the lighter. Your previously muted sense leap with recognizing even such a simple sound. Then, the flare of light and your eyes are drawn immediately to the source and you squint with focus as the flame moves shakingly to the wick and then relax as the candle catches and emits a soft glow and warmth to an otherwise void chamber.

As comforting as the candle is though, you are acutely aware of just how insufficient it is. As though it were a placeholder so to speak; a mere representation what it might be. Your mind does cartwheels as you begin to strategize all possible futures for that little candle, and which ones might yield a full fledged flame that gives both light and real warmth.

Fortunately (or not), someone eventually spares you the mental distress and calmly flicks on the overhead light. The room is illuminated, familiar once more. The candle’s little light, which was so very vital a moment ago is now superfluous. Nice, but not essential; merely a pleasant distraction.


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