THE BURNING FLAME

Who has never tried protecting a candle's flame,

By cupping both hands around its light,

Preventing the restless winds from laying claim,

Not letting the darkness win the night.

The gentle warmth bestowed by flame,

Grows distant as the embers climb;

What once felt certain does not remain the same,

But bends beneath the weight of time.

But as conviction meet its test,

An uncertainty would grow in this regard

One question would not come to rest,

What sets a promise and an oath apart?

The promise warms beside the flame,

Yet leaves when comfort fades from sight,

But an oath remains within the burn,

Guarding the flame through every night.

A promise seeks the world to hear,

Its echoes drifting with the restless wind;

An oath leaves traces far more clear:

A blackened palm and half-burnt skin.

But remember, The wind may kill a secret's glow,

Yet so can hands that will not part,

For some flames fade from bitter cold,

And some from an over-faithful heart.