The candle sniveled and said, "Is burning me your muse? Do you love to see me melt in these flames, you once called 'bequest of love'?
My tears of seeing us apart are just a collection of materialistic wax for you, to remold this charm in the way you want; something you call art. You happen to have known me in every creation, in every form and yet you mold me every time as if my faces could never suit your moon of the night. Do you intend to make an attempt just to teach me to live apart? 'cause maybe at some point you would want me away from your life, never a valued part of it, ever again. Evident enough?
Every time you mold me into life, I adore your strokes of perfection and affection of birth. I keep wondering that someday you might just let me be, in this shoe, but then again I find myself in wax. Hope someday you'll realize when my wick could not sustain this living-dead wax any longer, I shall still continue to give you memories you could use"
The maker shuddered as he listened to her and whispered, "Mon Cherie, everything has it's purpose in life; you, being a candle are supposed to melt darkness with your light. Your every drop of tear wipes out someone else's, an earthy connection difficult to find in this self-obsessed world. I happen to love you at my best, and it has never been easy for me to see you evanesce for those who forget your enchanting presence. I remold you to give life, for you to see and get what you deserve. Being in different form doesn't mean your value is any less than before, it is just that this bond and charm is meant to be shapeless and unmaterialistic. My life spun around creating and learning lessons from your beautiful memories. You are precious the way you are no matter what you go through; your light, your value will always bring brightness for those in darkness".
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