Deep in an underground iron ore mine,
we tourists stood quiet. Stood close.
Turning our helmet lamps off, we waited,
pitched in a black so bleak
that our inky eyes, though wide,
saw nothing.
The minutes seemed a forever,
until she, our guide, lit the match.
Just one little match!
It shattered the cavernous blackness,
tiny shards piercing the darkest of the deep.
Gasping in awe at its bitsy brilliance,
we sighed in collective relief,
our surroundings secure,
our bearings regained.
Who knew!
Something so small yet so big,
so petite yet so powerful,
so diminutive yet so demanding,
as one little match.
Though we may wish
the whole of our darkness dispelled,
it takes but a leavening of light
to see the path before us,
and to find a way through.
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