With the Strike of the match my life began, I burst into existence shining light onto my little world. The place I saw was dark at first but slowly light spread, the room I saw before me was filled with wonders that sparkled as I danced in the draft. Swords and armor gleamed on the wet stone walls, a tapestry's bright colors, half-hidden in the darkness, shone bright as day. My little world was bright except the darkness on the other side of the half-visible table. The other half of the world was a mystery to me but if it remained unexplored that would be alright. After all, I got to see the chest with elaborate carvings on its top, and the books with ancient writing that sat on my table. My world was bright and wonderful.
As I watched over my shining world what I realized tore my world apart, while everything else in my world sparkled and shone with light, I was veiled in darkness. All that I saw I saw through this veil, did I shine at all? Did anything else see me shine in this bright room? Why was only I in darkness?
My world grew dim despite the light that still filled the room. I still danced in the draft but my spirit was gone. The darkness around me was something I could not understand. Then I saw you.
You were brought to this world just like I was, with the stroke of a match. I watched you grow from a spark, atop your waxen tower you gave light to the darker side of my world. The table was full, the bright tapestry complete, the room was whole. I watched as you learned to dance in the draft and I understood. As your light grew, brightening the world all the dark that was present drew to you. You made everything shine and sparkle but your price for giving this gift was the darkness the hung so close to you like a gown. I saw you marvel in your new world, as I had in mine. I watched you dance and wonder, and then it happened. The moment you realized the darkness that had clung to you I saw the way you lost your spirit, the way you questioned and doubted. I wanted to call to you, to show you how bright you were. I wanted to make you see your light that had awoken my soul. But the room was too vast, you could not hear me and you were far too broken to see me.
How I tried to make you see me so that you could see yourself in me, as I saw myself in you. I refused to stop even as time passed even on the days that the ground shook. Over time the shakes became more frequent and you shrank into yourself as they became more violent, but you did not look to me. Yet still, I tried to reach for you.
As the shaking grew worse I called for you more, then one day I fell.
The old books who were my companions were the first to crumble in my haste to stay alive, as I consumed them I grew larger. I called for you and saw you perk at my voice. You heard me! For the first time, my voice reached you. I looked around for something else to reach you. The tapestry marked a path to you, I raced across the books and jumped to the hanging fabric as the room shook again, swords and armor crashed to the ground.
Finally, you saw me you watched me race across the tapestry to you and I saw the moment you realized, it was the same moment I reached for you and you for me, and we were one. I pulled you from your waxy tower and onto the wall with me. As we consumed the fabric we found the truth, the price for shining brighter, for having our own light we will call to ourselves the darkness that we dispel from others. But together even that darkness will not phase us, as we bask in each other's light.
~ memoir of a candle flame.
Excerpt from "Memoirs"
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