I didn’t realize the candle to refrain from hiding was my own, not some super–candle I would one day acquire or already had that was better than my real one. I didn’t realize the money to refrain from burying was my pocket change: all that I had in the world. I didn’t realize the virgins weren’t particularly chaste, but just so young they might not trust their own wicks.
I kiss the light, bathed in love. I am exhausted and defeated, unable to deny my tragedies were my own concoction; it was me who held my nose as I imbibed its bitterness. Faith stands, still unblemished, present to life, vulnerable to wholesomeness, permissive of its good nature. She smiles as I let go of fear to hold the hand that was always there.