Nancy L. Meek

DISTANT FLAME

Into every heart a little light must shine
providing hope for a future dimmed by time;
for without it steady there, we’d cease to be,
wander room-to-room, ships adrift at sea,
reliving memories embracing the walls,
as their voices echo down hollow halls,
be trapped in a world with no light at the end,
no comfort, no hope on which to depend.
But, thanks to the flicker of that distant flame
leaking its rays into our lonely domain,
in the diminishing dark, we can surely rise
with our weary hearts, reach toward the skies,
grope from the battle below for the Hand of Love
reaching down for ours from somewhere up above.