This little light of mine

Forget the lights of Vegas, Broadway and The Riviera.  What stirs my soul is the warmth of one little candle, casting its warmth across the table,  rays being filtered through my pinot noir, dancing on my delectable victuals as if to say, “Enjoy my presence, I am here for your pleasure.”  And pleasure it is to dine by candlelight.  Why is that?  Is it a reflex of comfort relating to fire, born thousands of years ago in my cave man genes?  Who knows, but to me, there is nothing more comforting than that one little light.

This little light pictured is sitting in a redware candleholder, that has black slip covering it and yellow slip trailed accents.  Is it hard to see?   Yes.  But the beauty of low light lets your eyes adjust in such a way that one begins to focus and see; I mean really see!  Maybe that’s what is so intriguing about it, it commands that we focus on what we’re really looking at, forcing us to see more than if it was lit by bright halogen lights, and may I say, much warmer and comforting to the eye.

So, this little light of mine shines bright enough for me; let it shine, let it shine, let it shine.

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