Bare Rooms

When I consider how my light is spent like a lone candle lit in a small room veiled in darkness, flashes of the beautiful things, the terrible. This light grows on for I still march on, it leaks out flowing onto the floors, cascading down the walls like a liquid gold waterfall. My room is full to the brim; I wish this to leak, to wash into other life's, to fill their bare rooms with this precious glow. People pass it up, for their rooms are raging seas trying to swallow this light. Still I wish, for there is light in everything, if you just remember to look.