Fire, Life, and Wax

A black candle lit for several years.
A small little flame that never blows out.
Even through all the stong winds.
The fire never goes away.
I has leaped and jumped.
And melted almost all the wax.
But it is still there and bright.
The tiny normal light stays put.
This colorful sun stays a float.
Even though the black storms are constant.
Most of the raindrops have fallen.
But they have collected as a pool in the bottom.
Some days it burns, the less the flame.
When it is bored, the flames lasts on.
Tornadic winds have ripped and stripped this shining gold.
But this orange gem never flies away.
It has twittered and fluttered.
Several times the flame had gone out.
Like a trick candle, it comes back on.
A magical miracle that comes along.
Never has it peaked, not even for a moment.
Tears have fallen because it refuses to reach heaven.
People have tried to kill it, to pull the plug,
As it's refusal occurs, each person walks away diappointed.