Hi there, come on in.  No, don't worry about that.  The lights are just low 'cause it feels like a quiet evening.  You know you're welcome ... when have I ever turned you away?  All right, then.  May I get you a glass of wine?  I actually went shopping recently, so I have a small selection.  Find a seat, I'll join you in a minute or two.

I love candles.  Especially if one or two are scented, while the rest lead to relaxation without the need for flamboyance.  Not too flowery, not too fruity.  Not too ... anything, really.  The kind of scent that you only catch if you lean in the right direction, or pass by before you realize it's there.  Like a woman's perfume.  Or a man's aftershave.  Hardly even strong enough to state it's purpose - yet still, it lingers.

Then there's the flames within the shadows they cast.  A light bulb is so stern, so solid in it's conviction.  It's on or it's off.  Period.  But a flame bounces and plays, dances and cowers.  It teases the mind with the idea that it might disappear, quietly fading ... fading.  Then, a second wind, a brilliant moment and it's reaching for the climax just before it loses it's nerve and the flicker calms.  Show off.

Flames come in many diverse disguises.  Always with one pure need - a catalyst.  A simple scented wax candle for pleasure, an oil hurricane lantern for safety, a wood burning fire for warmth.  Flame is passion.  Without flame, without passion, life would be not only boring - it wouldn't smell nearly as nice.

So, my candles tonight burn softly, but they have been known to blaze when my passion in life is ignited.  I admit to having singed and burned a few things along the way.  I've also comforted and loved with a gentle light.  Depends on the catalyst, I suppose.

How's your candle burning tonight?