Dark is the night, that’s what the song said, and though it’s hard to tell whether you were thinking of the hymnwriter who said it, or the Norwegian pop band, or the blues guitarist, the night is dark, isn’t it? Dark for all of them, the saints and the sinners and the lovers and the fighters. The night is dark, and getting longer, stretching blurry and shape-shifting past headlight pool and knowing.
But heart — but heart, look here, and can you see? The flicker’s there, the tiny pinprick of wick burning not in memoriam but in half-hidden hope, a looking forward, a flashlight key to tonight’s next step. Because that stumble you put forward tonight, that stumble leads to a corner, a turning; and if you squint hard you’ll see another wick lighting another stumble.
Chase these candles, heart, because chasing them is chasing light, and light not just for this night but for the life that contains this and a thousand other dark nights. And chase them because doing that is putting feet to the hope of a someday dawning, and the hope is sure, and the day is soon.