Poem Envoy, Deepavali Night Poem by Ananta Madhavan

Go, my notebook,
Get lost in a trunk of old papers,
Now the last page is inscribed.
I who could give you speech
Am tongue-tied by the blight,
Afflicted by the doubter's sloth.

The candles of this Deepavali night
Are squiggles on the balcony.
Why look for portents there,
In the casual art of wind and flame?

Enough, that they burnt for us
With fierce futility,
As our freight of tallow,
You for me, I for you.