THE BURNING LAMP




Is not our life, like the burning lamp?
Beautiful body like the beautiful lamp,
The oil like blood,
Wick the veins of grit and determination,
Soul and heart is the golden flame,
Every minute we burn,
Our emotions run,
Passion amok, 
Feelings race,
Courageous,
With the energy of dynamite,
Blood boils
Warm like the oil
Passing through the wick,
Full of determination the veins
Let through the flow warm,
Reduces and gradually dries
The hot oil,
As does our blood,
Golden flame turning 
Red and azure,
Flickering,
As does our blood 
Running short on oxygen,
The soul flaring, glimmering,
Trying to move out,
As the flame goes out
With the last drop of oil no more,
Similarly running short of breath,
The soul flies out
For some fresh air
In despair the heart stops,
The flame dies,
So does close our eyes!


The beautiful body turns useless,
To be thrown as rubbish,
Burnt to ashes,
Drowned in water 
Or lowered deep into the depths of earth
To be turned to earth again.

©Madhumita