Once it would seem that way,
Long distant and passed by,
Hiding it would seem in shroud,
Clothed by the hazy light,
Sitting in a corner without stirring,
Waiting for the time of acceptance;
They would all walk by silent,
Not a glance, not a shudder,
As if in non-existance,
Exiled without knowing why,
Without ever knowing,
Too dim to their half wake state;
It was always the solitary same,
Day after lonely day,
Empty of the prevailing company,
A spark, a moment past,
The opportunity never to arrive,
Always just outside the reachable;
And like candles burning in the night,
The light was shed quietly,
Sometimes in too small a whisper,
So they would never hear,
The words of want and longing,
Echoing within the self in darkness;
It was only when it dimmed,
The glow turned low,
That they could start to see,
It was that which was missed,
The taking away needed,
For some to see the appreciation;
Now the buring candle is different,
The light a transformed colour,
Not brighter nor darker,
Only quality in always essence,
It burns double now,
It flickers life now in twin souls.