Personifying the dying flame of a candle, I've tried to create an alternate reality for the candle flame which is known to us all as a symbol of light and hope. I've tried to re-visit it's martyrdom in the same light, as one would of a soldier. Seeing their pain and sufferings as an act of losing themselves to their purpose, I've talked about how the candle lives a similar life.
I saw a candle, each day
In my room, it sat always.
One night the filaments lost their spark,
That moment I reached out to the candle,
And knew its heart.
I asked it if it would like to burn
And be the light to everyone?
If it don’t mind losing its wax?
But it refused, told
“Get another one of those packs.”
It said, “I am a candle, meant to glow;
But when I burn,
It’s only then I see my shadow.
You know me as hope,
You know me as light;
But as you sleep,
I stand alone facing the night.”
It yelped my heart to know its pain,
But for the darkness, likewise
Its tears slipped vein
In the pouring wax
And the fuming incense.
It started melting and losing itself.
Under the candlelight,
It came to me
As a ballad of glory;
A flame that was afraid to be,
The martyr’s beautiful story.
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