Relativity in Wax

A lit candle is a relative thing

The burning stub of a wick

The present fueled by wax and string

The future drilled down the candlestick

My eyes leave the wick aflame

Travel down the cylinder

Within which, is future, constrained

Until I can go no farther

From the flame of the present

To the dry wick lying in wait

The future, twice as incessant

If the other end burns at the same rate