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The Mother Flame

Donald P. Goodman III

Version 1.0,
I hold aloft my candle; fragile light can scarcely pierce the overwhelming dark; a tiny, barely noticeable spark alone, unaided, holding back the night; until a glowing gem from flick'ring height upon a cold and dark wick can embark and warm it like its mother-jewel; and hark! an independent lamp, a-burning bright! And just as bright as burns her mother-flame another jewel falls from the daughter's fire and lights another, countless more, the same, each flame bears others equal and entire; until all darkness flees the world in shame, and light together rises ever higher!