I lit a candle this afternoon,
just as the sunlight
began to soften against my skin.
The room was quiet,
the air kissed with lavender,
and for once,
I had nowhere else
I needed to be.
I loosened my shoulders,
let my hair fall freely,
and watched the little flame
sway as though
it had been waiting
for me to come home
to myself.
How exquisite,
to sit in the gentle company
of my own breath,
to feel the warmth
of a familiar room,
and remember
that I, too,
deserve tenderness.
There is something sublime
about the flickering light,
its gentle cadence
caressing the walls,
dissolving the antiquated weight
of yesterday’s concerns.
No rancor.
No unnecessary commotion.
No ostentatious performance
of productivity.
Just me,
my candle,
and the delicious luxury
of uninterrupted peace.
Let the world
continue its frivolous debates.
I have a prior engagement
with tranquility.
Very elegantly, of course.
The flame dances
with remarkable composure,
reminding me
that stillness possesses
its own vitality.
That discernment
sometimes means
turning down the noise,
pouring another cup of tea,
and allowing the body
to luxuriate
in its own restoration.
There is no need
to relinquish joy
to prove one’s fortitude.
I have earned
the softness of this hour.
So let the candle burn gently.
Let the fragrance linger.
Let the evening arrive
with its velvet disposition.
I am luminous.
I am serene.
I am beautifully unencumbered.
And as the final flicker
casts its amber kiss
upon the room,
I smile with quiet certainty.
The world may ask
for another performance tomorrow.
But tonight, beloved,
I belong to peace.
And peace
looks absolutely exquisite
on me.
Copyright © 2026 Sherley Delia
