We Are Not the Flame
By Jane Tawel
February 8, 2022
We are not the flame.
We are but a flicker,
and a flicker, and a flicker, and a flicker after that.
I am not one name,
but many I have worn,
like coats of many colors,
some beautiful, some torn.
And yet the garment is all One,
and I am just the tassels,
just one small voice amongst great passels,
and yet not passing-on– not all–
and yet not passing on.
Eternity, we deeply feel,
must be in us, must be real.
And yet, we know we die.
We pass away to live not yet another day.
But what I do, what these hands make,
not for myself, but someone else’s sake,
will last, will conquer even death,
and even with my dying breath,
I hope, I pray, that I can say:
“The Flame. The Flame! I see it now!”
And some way, some how,
beyond– yet still me–
my little flickers of The Flame,
will live on, eternally.
© Jane Tawel, 2022