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The Candle
Shall I be snuffed? Like candle to a breath
And tossed inside a box without a care
Exchange my life, my love, my soul, for death
To journey to a place we know not where?
And all were shaped from wax of wide array
All those who crawl, who fly, who walk about
And none of these can nature’s course delay
For every mortal flame will be snuffed out
Yet human death will claim your wilting flame
Not one can touch the selfless, loving acts
That you in life have added to your name
Now carried on within your kindred’s wax
Our children live with feet upon the ground
Though still in death, in memories abound!
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I pictured myself as the man in the poem. Afraid to leave this world, hoping that my death wouldn't be meaningless. It was comforting to know that when I thought of the ones that had passed on, I realized that they weren't truly dead. They live within our hearts and memories; their spirits do not succumb to mortal death.
What we do in life will not only affect the present, but also the future. I suppose it very much relates to "A Christmas Carol." Scrooge would have only been remembered for his greedy, miserly if it were not for the three visitors. One is never truly dead; when you think of ones that have passed on, they will be most alive.