A candle reaches back to the beginning of time, though the flame flickers at breakfast in the slightest shift of air. Reminded of death, I feel fire inside, enough to push against the dark. Near the front porch, rain falls on the schoolchildren. It falls on their heads, their books, their jackets, their legs bare below the knees, their shoes, their faces, and small hands and eyes. A few walk with bowed heads, others talk together, enjoying the flickering in the rainy weather. Unknowing courage inspires us to leave the cave to join lights with others, build fires at entrances to ward off danger and illuminate the shadows within, enabling us to know the beast, when it appears near the light, one hundred miles from Bethlehem and Mecca and Harney Peak, and in our mother's and father's eyes.