A Smoldering Wick

Zealously
We endure
like the dining room candles
burning at both ends of the day
with all our hearts
Sowing, reaping, working
not for ourselves
and yet for ourselves
passionately, patiently, perseveringly, pursuing

Idols we cannot believe
Stories we cannot hear
Dreams we cannot have
Treasures we cannot hold

We are left
Smoldering
like a weary candle
Ashes to ashes, smoke rising
like that fire down the block
Noteworthy, dangerous, tragic

We are left
Bruised
like a river's reed
Broken, deformed, chaff
tossed to and fro by the cold winds
Desolated by desire

But behold
My Servant
will proclaim justice in the streets
will make peace where quarrels reign
will not break the bruised reed
will not quench the smoldering wick
And in His
Name
We hold and have and hear and believe

Zealously
We participate in his
death
resurrecting
even drinking
from the servant's basin
So that as he makes peace
our strivings may cease

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