At the end of it, the wick is either cut too short or it’s so long, it falls on its side and can’t stand up, won’t light. And so much wax left, in the shape of what remains. This body poured into a form—this wick, the soul that lights it.
Bill Pearse
Writing is learning to see in the dark
Bill Pearse 
Must admit I’m feeling a bit like a limp wick lately. Which is a shame since I do have a rockin’ lighter.
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Ha, limp wick has good diction, at least.
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Don’t talk to me about wicks. And so say all of us.
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Nope, this exit is closed for repair.
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It’s autumn, your soul cries out for beef on weck.
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Dude you know it. I eat beef like once a month but had it twice this past week! Happy Friday to ya’, mate! Bill
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Wow – this one is “print out and post on the frig” worthy!
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Ha! Nice, thanks Beth…!
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I was like that last year
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Glad you are on the other side of it, by friend! Thanks for reading, Bill
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Sir,I feel the soul is a part of God,athread of the great cloth,It only departs
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I love that, the great cloth.::it only departs, that’s lovely. Thanks for reading and for sharing, good sir! Bill
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Now, I feel like a wick, Bill hehe 🙂
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We all have one inside! Maybe it’s the umbilical cord?
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yeps and indeed 🙂 We are all this wick, lighting up and behaving topsy turvy, at times!
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