Genius - Draft One

He was building and bundling things
In a cabin
Beside the stream
Through a broken window
I saw him

The stream threatened to overflow
The candle which lit his efforts
Appeared to be running out of wax
Winter coming
Things releasing a grip on life

Making something.
Machine? Sculpture?
It was not clear.

He worked for many hours
I was the spectator.

I saw
Water rising, a candle dying
Darkness climbing
Leaves falling

Straining to see inside

In the end , I thought that

The pitch black of night merged with the brilliance.