From: a friend
To Jack: Who is perfect and bright, just as he is.
The Little Wax Boy
Once upon a perfect winter there was a boy made completely of wax, smooth and white and completely perfect. He had no name, no past, only memories of the dancing warmth of flames and the peculiar sensation of melting and dripping and measuring that tiny inch smaller with each and every day..
He stood tall, tall and strong with each and every lick of each and every flame at first. He stool tall as he got shorter, stood strong as he melted slowly and painfully away.
Often wax would melt only from his tiny carved eyes, rounded perfect teardrops bought on by the flames. Sometimes they would fall perfect from his heart as he felt the pain of each and everyday.
He was sad, his eyes were so filled with tears they failed to see, failed to see the light he emitted, blinding and bright even with no flame in sight.
Smaller and smaller he got as he let each and every onset of flames take a small piece of him until a small piece was all that was left of the perfect little wax boy, so loved by all, so needed, so bright, such a beacon of hope to others and yet stuck in perpetual night.
And yet the winter ended, and the little wax boy was reset again, standing just as tall and beautiful as before, he was in the shinning summer of his life, no flames dared to touch him, no waxy tears fell from his tiny eyes and the little wax boy was amazed at how he had ever felt so defeated before how he had ever felt so sad. He was perfect and bright even without the dancing painful flames.
And yet the winter came again and plunged him into darkness and the flames threatened to light his rebuilt head and yet he stood so tall and strong, taller and stronger than ever before. For the little wax boy, so perfect and bright, he refused to let them, he thought back to the summer so happy and shinning, he readied himself in the knowledge that the winter would come but there would always be a brighter summer waiting for him, a brighter day. The little wax boy, he braved his winter, strong and tall. Shone so bright so blinding, without the touch of a flame at all.
a friend wrote me this.
It gosh darn saved my life.
The Little Wax Boy.
March 11th, 2008 at 03:59am