The Advent candle is burning. I sit and think about where I am. The light; sunshine/spring/christ, is a way off. Before that time, the time of Solstice, of Yule, of Christmastide, the daylight will continue to wane. The dark time, night-time will lengthen and grow. Ever darker. Less light, little by little.
Harvest has been. The barns are stocked. The cupboards are full.
The fields are barren. The soil lays in wait. Too cold to be turned. Of no use… at this time.
At this time I, like the soil, wait. I am spent. I have created. I have filled my barns and cupboards.
I wait for the light because I know it will return. And while I wait I light the candle.
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