Be that candle, ever burning
amid the piles of ash,
the lone survivor in the world
though fragile, built to last.
Be that candle, never blowing
to any wind or touch,
for little do you know, your aura
in this is worth so much.
Be that candle, ever shining,
a beacon in the storm,
a savior in your presence alone,
your light, your flame so warm.
Be that candle, never wavering
under any lid or hand,
for in that small spark lies so much;
although so small, so grand.