Will our stories survive beyond us?
Arms wide open, I stand alone. I’m no hero. And I’m not made of stone. I stand here burning. Casting my warm glow upon the wrinkled skin of the frail old man.
He is the lone inhabitant of this timeworn and run-down ancestral home. Now abandoned and forgotten.
The old man is lying in silence, lost in his thoughts. He’s staring at me as though I hold the answers to all his questions.
I watch as he shuffles his way across the room, his bony frame wrapped in his tattered shirt. He slumps down in front of me. And for a moment, we sit in silence, just the two of us. Alone in this sad room where now the days are darker than the night. Yet his smile stays on.
My heart is melting as I don’t have all the answers. How I wish I could ease the aches of his burdened heart.
As the night wears on, he smiles at me in gratitude of my undivided attention. To him, I am more than just a flame. I am his beacon of hope and comfort in this lonesome place. I’m his friend in the darkness.
His gaze is fixed on me. His fascination is heightened when I stand still as a statue.
And he watches me with anxious eyes when I fight to stay alive against the untamed gusts invoked by the wings of the night.
Mesmerized by my resilience, he is in a mood to share his thoughts. He narrates stories of his youth and the happy times he had spent in this very house. His parents and grandparents, all of whom are long gone, come back to life in his memories. And the room takes on the warmth of bygone days of glory. Days of love, comfort, and care.
Tears swell his eyes. I am dying to reach out and comfort him. To let him know that he is not alone. But all I can do is burn. And provide him with a warm and comforting glow.
The night staggers on. And the first rays of dawn begin to filter through the dusty windows. And the old man finally drifts off to sleep, his tired head resting on his feeble hands. And his smile still stays on.
As I watch him, I realize that I am more than just a lone candle burning in a forgotten room. I am a source of comfort, a reminder of the light and warmth that once filled this ancestral home.
And so I burn on, my flame growing more and more intense as my final moments of life approach rapidly. I know my time is now very limited.
Yet, I still care. I don’t want him to be broken, I don’t want him to feel empty.
I want to take him with me. He doesn’t deserve to be lonely anymore.
My flame starts to reach for the sky. And it feels like heaven is so far away.
Maybe in another life, I’ll come back to burn for him among the wild flowers blooming beside his grave.
No more shadows of the past. His spirit will then be free to fly at last.
Arms wide open, I will again stand alone, burning. I’m no hero. And I’m not made of stone.
Have you read my article on the mother of all tongues? Here’s the link.
https://wordsoups.com/2023/02/21/a-lament-for-the-mother-of-all-tongues/
WORDSOUPS 
You brought back my memories of my grandfather and the chimney lamp which was a backup for the unreliable electricity in that village 50 years back.
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Yes, similar thoughts helped me in visualizing the background of the story. Thanks for commenting. As an amateur writer, I’m filled with gratitude to my readers like you who can relate to my stories. 🙏
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I empathize with d candle and feel for that lonely old man who had seen happier days. You brought forth d feelings. Great going 👍🏼
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Yes, I was particularly interested in capturing the point of view of the candle. We usually only see their functional side. Here I thought it was worth imagining an emotional side. Thank you so much for the words of appreciation. 🙏
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Good reading…..Very touching for those who have seen some of their close elders’ last helpless days. To be read in silence to get the real feel. But an unthought of imagination……. A candle who wants to be with the helpless person, but itself being helpless. Very poetic at times…….
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Yes, I had visualized how the candle, even while dying, was hoping to be reborn so that it can burn beside the grave of his old friend. Thanks a lot for the appreciation.🙏
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CHEERS
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Lovely narrative which brought a tear…..In the candle light I saw the pain, agony, joy and hope of an aged and fragile being…the lines are so emotion-packed and genuine….expecting more from the author!
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Yes, I was visualizing the emotions that an old and lonely person would feel. We humans, I feel, are inherently resourceful enough to develop emotional bonds with the simplest of things. Thank you very much for the kind words of appreciation. I’m motivated to write more. 🙏
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Takes me back to Elton John singing his touching tribute
“Candle in the Wind” in memory of Princess Diana at her funeral.
Our lives are like the candle in the wind never knowing who to cling to. If only we trusted God with all our heart we will be blessed to face any situation in life.
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Yes, Elton John’s wonderful song is the first thing that comes to mind.
The burning candle symbolizes hope and trust in a higher realm. Thank you for the words of appreciation. 🙏
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😭. Reminded me of my dad. His stories, his memories, his boxes. His final moments. Did he look for me to show up????
Thank you for the writeup, I think it opens up some compassion in some of us, lost in this rat race.
Loved it.
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Yes, the travails of life become manageable and bearable only because of the compassion that we share with our fellow beings and our loved ones. May your dad’s soul rest in peace. 🙏
Thank you very much for sharing your thoughts, and for the words of appreciation. It means a lot to me. 🙏
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Realisation that life is ephemeral and what lends it meaning is empathy, expressed lucidly.
Impressive!
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Yes indeed. Life is too short.
Empathy comes naturally to us and the burning candle is a testament to the warmth and wonder that can be found in even the simplest things. Thanks a lot for the appreciative words. 🙏
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Very profound narrative indeed. Also we tend to forget that one candle could light up millions of others …
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Yes, that’s a great thought.
Thanks a lot for the words of appreciation. 🙏
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Poetry in motion!
“The Old Man and The Candle!”
To me, the candle is just a thought that men invent in life to provide them solace and comfort.
But then……., everyone needs a crutch, especially when frail!
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Thank you so much for the encouraging comments and for the unique line of thought. I hadn’t thought of that.
🙏
Since candles are an age-old symbol of empathetic burning, it’s easy to imagine that Candles cry hot tears while they burn, their tears often forming the shape of human tears.
Maybe that’s a bond that’s graspable only between the seeker and giver of empathy in each individual experience. 🙏
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