A small glass lantern with metal joints 

Inside there is a bit of wick 
Both smooth and rough hands craddle the shell
Minds cradle the wick with the eyes
 
Desires cradle the match that brings forth light 
The act of burning reveals the desires of the wick
The light hitting the glass demands a reckoning 
But the minds deny both, and wonder if the wick loves the match or the desires cradling it.