!Goretti Publications Gopherspace - Poetry
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The Mother Flame
Donald P. Goodman III

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!