lightsticks.

warmth,
like candle wax,
stings as it kisses.
and light,bold and bright,
flickers like hope.no matter how dark
the night,it can get darker
for not all tunnels end in light;
some end dead.
and some end like a candle extinguished,
a wisp of smoke as memory to
a vision that left;a wisp of smoke
that lazily licks the tunnel walls.