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We Are Not the Flame
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We Are Not the Flame
By Jane Tawel
February 8, 2022
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We are not the flame.
We are but a flicker,
and a flicker, and a flicker, and a flicker after that.
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I am not one name,
but many I have worn,
like coats of many colors,
some beautiful, some torn.
And yet the garment is all One,
and I am just the tassels,
just one small voice amongst great passels,
and yet not passing-on — not all —
and yet not passing on.
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Eternity, we deeply feel,
must be in us, must be real.
And yet, we know we die.
We pass away to live not yet another day.
But what I do, what these hands make,
not for myself, but someone else’s sake,
will last, will conquer even death,
and even with my dying breath,
I hope, I pray, that I can say:
“The Flame. The Flame! I see it now!”
And some way, some how,
beyond — yet still me —
my little flickers of The Flame,
will live on, eternally.
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© Jane Tawel, 2022