Whether the wax weeps

In the endless, tumultuous battle between head and heart, I have learnt this summer that sometimes it's best not to take sides, not to trust in the sequences of logic nor the odd throb of intuition. But to let life take its course and sweep aside the indecisions of thought and feeling in the momentum of a moment, plowing through dream and delusion alike with the force of destiny. 

But I want to say also that I'm sorry for the carnage I left behind in all that thoughtlessness and unfeeling. And those candles I've tried to blow out, but where the flames have simply refused to die and continue trembling in my wake. I see the lights at night, dancing in the distance, and wonder whether the wax weeps. And I silently, selfishly hope they never dim.