Something lifts us up. We rise readily enough at the start. Something carries us forward in hope and expectation. Is it life’s own longing for itself that drives us? It must be for I feel it in myself, lifting me still. And this accommodates both faith and godlessness, so primal is the force. So when it fails long before its fuel is spent, what are we to make of this? I’ve lit a candle for you, Charlie and in the time it’s taken me to think these thoughts and then to write them down, it’s half-way gone. I can light another and I shall. But then I’ll walk away between these pillars and these pews and the tiny flame will never die Dick Jones xxxxx