Another candle was lit
to blow
away,
a segment of
time
with
memories overlapping
dreams in
wakeful measures
searching
for the hours
that could
not raise their neck.
I stood
staring at the
golden flame though flickering
yet shines
its brightness
standing
firm against the wind.
Some candles
are lit in the Church
some become
the placard
of a peace
march, some
kill darkness,
some take
the pride of
being lit on a
lovers
dinner table and especially
dazzles on
the birthday cake
of an eternal
virgin.
I too shed pearly drops, burn
melt, changing
my shape
don't know
for whom,
but the
flames speak of
my love and
sacrifice.
The fire in
me purifies
my inner
urges, keep me
strong and
brave to burn again
to glow
consuming darkness.
Sabita Sahu
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