Hope's candle.

Once upon a winter's day,
I came upon a book,
With a miniature lock and tiny sign,
Reading "Caution to those who dare look"

Quite unafraid I grasped the key,
And gave it two sharp twists,
A curl of purple smoke arose,
Asking "How may I grant your wish?"

I told it "Show me happiness,
For I am often low"
And all at once a mirror appeared -
Within it, a flickering glow.

"This" said the smoke, "Is a candle,
But we know her here as Hope,
Her breath is pure tranquility,
And she'll smooth the steepest of slopes."

I scoffed at his words and turned away,
Where I came face to face,
With another mirror, covered by,
A delicate cloth of lace.

"Lift the cloth" ordered the smoke,
I did as I was asked,
And gasping I gazed deep inside,
To reveal a painted mask.

I cried out to the smoke demanding,
"Why does it show my face?"
To which he replied with a smile in his voice,
"The opposite stands in place."

Stumbling around, I blinked back tears,
The 'Candle mirror' had vanished,
And stood there in the darkness,
I knew it was Hope I'd banished.

The Smoke's voice cut through the shadows,
Cried "Your candle has burnt out,
And Hope is irreplaceable,
Mark my words - you'll find out."

And to this very day I've wandered,
Through nights of cloudy doom,
Wishing for my candle's presence,
To swallow the infinite gloom.

I still yearn for just one more moment,
Of holding my lady Hope's hand,
To not let her slip through my fingers,
Lose her glow like a grain of sand.

I now know that Hope is unbreakable,
If you let her grow inside of you,
And blossom from every inch of yourself,
That tiny flame CAN pull you through.