Shining Light

What matters more, the source or light, when shone through darkness vast? For if the brightest light that shines is but a star so far away, then how could I so come to know what brings to me my life? And if the dark is lit by fire, be it candle small, then what does matter, wick or flame, to know this source of light?

Distance matters not to me, nor how does shine the light. What it is that I do seek is that which I might know. But as surely as a lantern’s light falls victim to the wind, so too do stars that shine at night vanish to the day. When shines a light so bright to see, what meaning holds a candle? A windy day needs not a lantern, nor the sun a wick.

And yet I am in darkness. And yet I see no light. Shining sun and burning flames, distant stars and lighted lamps, I know them all too well. So what is it that brings the light? If I know not that which shines nor how it shines its light, then what is there for me to see if no action can I take?

For what I do, it matters not. What I see, it matters not. What I know, it matters not. What I wish, it matters not. Sunlit skies do not shine light. Unlit candles shine like stars. Where I am and where I go, always is it darkness. The only lights that shine at night are the glimmers in faces unknown.