The lamp is readied, the wick trimmed,

Filled with oil, the chimney placed.

A burning reed transfers the flame,

Lights the lamp and in turn the room.

The light shines well, but eyes adjust,

And crave brighter ‘til gloom is past.

Boldly, our hand turns up the wick

To get the full effect we seek.

Immediately, flame now bright,

We bask in artificial light;

But see now, black soot in excess

Darks the glass, defeats our purpose.

Obscured, the flame reduced in power

Is dimmer than in former hour.

The oil still burns, but smoke is thick

Because it burns with too much wick.

So cut the wick and set it low,

Polish the glass and let it glow.

This is the ancient remedy:

Less of my wick and more of Thee.

Teri Ong – February 2015