to dozens of flames
beating an ancient rhythm
like wings of the seraphim
lining the centuries old church
candles in hurricane lamps burn
reflections in glass chimneys
dance around their source
cleaving and bending away
before melting into
a single brightness
while upon the alter votives
hold a range of luminosities
wild flares leaping high
reaching for the heavens
or maybe just hungering for a taste
of the wooden cross suspended overhead
as nearby tapers burn steadily
efficiently fulfilling their purpose
no more light than expected, no less
and a few faint flames flicker
exhausted and barely breathing
glowing dimly but still alive
effecting a mesmerizing grace
proving that it takes
a variation of brilliances
to illuminate the night
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