Wait

There is an old proverb…

If you have two loaves of bread, sell one and buy a candle.

As the match is brought to the wick, hush hovers;

The people sense it is more than flame,

This arc in the void,

Softening the edges of their pain.

Lit, it will satisfy more deeply than bread;

Sacred, like discovery,

It is a language needing no interpreter,

Each hearing unique.

This glimmer will not warm the hand

But sanctifies, suffusing beauty,

Sparkling the eye.

 It is enough.

 Ashleigh