Candlelight

You did not choose love.
Love chose You.
A candle cannot light itself.
Someone struck the match.
Someone passed the flame.
A ray of belonging
created you.
Now You must lean near,
whisper, and ignite someone.
Is the flame You impart
the same that lit You,
or is it a radiance utterly new?

This is a question
for wicks, not fire.

Just kindle friendship,
and burn
to nothing.