rekindled

Inside a black and crooked lamp
lay a tiny flickering flame,
a vision of the near Sunrise,
of pure and radiant rays of Light.

The shadows of the night blew in
a freezing wind of doubt and sin,
which almost quenched the fire within.

A Hand poured oil and cupped the wick
that smoldered in the secret dark.
The spark rekindled, glowed red and white
with hope, then blazed as clear and bright
as the Sun it sought to imitate.