His candle shines upon my head.
He trims the wick and guards the flame
and though the darkness creeps in close
the steadfast taper shines the same.

The flower of flame sways in the air.
Wind fingers snatch and try to snuff
the stalk his careful hands protect.
The light shines through. It is enough.

His candle shines on me in love,
(protective circle in the gloom)
and through the dreadful night I know
the he is with me in the room.

Throughout the weary waiting-time
the liquid flame shines thin and pure.
When tiredness dims my faith, I look
and see his light, and I am sure.

–Luci Shaw