Afterglow

I carry pocket sized chaos on my shoulder,

When living schedules has become a boulder.

I feel a trace of that encounter,

As if placed by a skilled mounter.

I remember when light flooded away the dark,

And everything had that radiant glow.

But the candle wick has been burnt stark,

And the light does not seem to flow.

Yet I remember the sound of that light,

Provoking me against my own might.

To fight that treacherous fight,

To once again see the lighted sight.

I turn to the mirror to find this light,

And I am stunned by the amazing sight.

There is no more of my own light left to show,

I am but drenched in the burnt candle’s afterglow.

/* We all have these wonderful experiences with places and people that really impact us . And they all change us in a way. So much so that the burnt out candle's afterglow becomes a part of our own glow. We may not be in touch with those wonderful people and places , but what they taught us lingers , just like afterglow. So , even when the sun goes down , I have a light . */