And the candle softly wipes away the fatigue mirrored in my eye, against the grain of a thousand moments. Awakening, the sun also slowly rises, drifting up against the currents of stars washed clean by the moon. And then the picture is painted pale blue with the remaining embers of a golden twilight underpinning of a silken sky. I’ve been waiting for this. Haven’t we all? Night comes, and morning follows. Here I sit at the Gratitude Cafe, waiting for ambrosia to arrive at my table. And I smile at my only dinner guest, the candle, while it burns, burns, burns deeper into my heart. I’m lucky, but I’ve been here all night. It glistens and flickers for years and years. Then I begin to laugh when it tickles its warmth under my nose. I love nothing more than the comforting brightness against the cool canvas of darkness. Its light may be small against the vast coat of black. But for what it’s worth, it will always be a candle taking away the secret caches of night. Whenever we face the perils of suffering or hardship, we only need a little brightness in our lives to take away the fear. Laughter is my antidote. In each of us, a candle is born when the night comes. We only need to see it within ourselves. One day. Some day. We all have the power to shine.