Since fire was first harnessed eons past, humans have huddled around it for warmth, used it to cook food, made it into torches for light, even fashioned it into weapons. Immensely powerful, fire has the capacity to wreak great destruction. In its tiniest form, however, it can be soothing, inspirational, romantic.
The flame of a lone candle is like the presence of an old friend - inviting and affable, warm and agreeable. What woman hasn't been wooed over dinner, her beauty adorned by the glow of a pair of tapered candles?
There's an intangible quality about the amber light of a candle that brings tranquility as it chases away the foreboding of darkness's uncertainty. I find a nearby candle's flame to be inspiring as I write, locked away in the solitude of my mind. Unlike people, the glowing inchling provides a sense of company without disturbing me with annoying demands or petty distractions. It only asks that I touch fire to its wick now and then, a small price to pay.
The brain's olfactory bulb is able to associate memories with scents in a way sight, sound, touch, and taste cannot. When I need to delve into a long-forgotten memory, the fragrance of a particular candle magically whisks me back to any time I wish.
During a cold and rainy winter, a scented candle can light an otherwise dim world in a way few things can.
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