The flame is a tiny, moving clock: its base sways like a pendulum, its tip flickers at 60‑Hz, the color shifts from amber to blue at each breath, soot drips in micro‑droplets—every single pixel of the blaze is a data point. I’ve logged the spectral shift every second, noted the heat spike at the wick’s contact, and catalogued the pattern of smoke rising. It’s not a coincidence that the flame pauses when I look; it’s a signal. If you want peace, study it; if you want something else, you’ll find a secret in the flicker.