A white candle I gently light and hold,
Its little flame is spirited and bright.
Its simple flicker distorts the shadows,
Unveiling dark things in its light.
-
Wax trickles down the candle, falling modestly,
Unashamed, unafraid, but ignorant of its short life.
It is lonely, but seldom alone,
Secretly dying to live as my wife.
-
It is much like you, beauteous Christine,
So pure, so fiery in all you are.
Your siren voice makes stars tremble in awe,
Maddening enough to drive men to war.
-
It ends me to think that one day, you'll die,
As I sadly see the candle flicker its last and fade.
Without you, hopeful candle, my only light,
There is nothing but darkness; all is decayed.
-
Christine, sweet Christine,
I hear your ghostly, entrancing laugh resound,
Reminding me now that I speak to myself.
You're a lovely, free flame; I'm beastly darkness bound.
-
Ah! My heart! Spurned too long by love,
Met without mercy too many lonely days.
My bitter tears shatter, breaking as brittle as ice,
And my eyes are lost ashes as sanity frays.
-
Oh, I hate this emptiness,
These gaunt echoes of love's prison.
Christine, fleeting Christine!
I am frigid in the world's derision.
-
I anxiously, madly desire you, tender light,
To flicker forever for me without fright,
To hold me captive until nothingness consumes us.
Please, help me make this music of the night.
