Candle Wax

A tight jaw,
Tells me I'm stressed.
I expect myself,
To top all the rest.

So much change,
Is so very near,
And my winding path,
Is still quite unclear.

My flame is burned out;
The wick is gone.
My candle seems dead,
With no respawn.

So what to do?
Have faith and trust?
That starts off strong,
Then turns to dust.

My only hope,
Is to be calm and relax.
Perhaps then I can,
Finally regain my wax.