THE LIGHT

sometimes i see that light.
sometimes i feel its' warmth.
i sit in cold rooms.
i eat cold meals.
i light the vigil candle,
in catholic churches.
though my religion has left me.
i do it out of habit.
i peer out my window into the darkness.
my mind is a blank.
i must find the light.
i carry a candle with me.
in a beat-up suitcase,
putting it on the gideon bible,
in musty motel rooms.
the phone bookswork just as well,
but the light needs a more sacred foundation.
the light hasn't gone out, yet.
it doesn't burn strongly,
as it has in the past.
still i seek the raging flame.
i am a fool.
are you the same?
we all seek, until we give up.
my light flickers slowy.
sometimes it causes me alarm.
the light is worth my efforts.
it is all that is left:
the light of truth.
the light of creation.
the light of harmony.
the light of hope.
the light of compassion.
the light of life.
the light of my life.