The Story Of Candle Poem by Vishwa Menpara

THE STORY OF CANDLE
I am overwhelmed with happiness
To serve thee master,
Overwrought with sadness
As it would be a disaster.

{For me}My life is deathly,
But not for the perennial light,
As over & over again when light vanishes slowly,
And darkness takes up its toll, I be your sight.

Burning my own wick,
And bearing the pain,
Darkness of fearful mind I cease,
And my scarifies is not in vain.

My body endures great heat,
Melting myself is fretful,
But one hope and goodness I see,
That to die a death for enlightenment to someone is not awful.



When you walk on pavement of dreary darkness
Your each pace struggles for brimming sparkle,
You seek for some alluring brightness,
And I am one in darkness to flicker.

The autumn of my life is death,
Blossoms is the pain I take,
Fruits of sadness, I bore is my only fate,
That I need to happily rake.

But one good thing of my deathly life,
Is you die a death of satisfaction,
No matter pain you bear twice or thrice,
But nothing greater than gratification.

My kindness is ephemeral,
But my gleam glimmers to gloom for glance,
But still not recognized by your internal,
The real found of my incandescence.

My deathly life is my message to your internal,
Learn to be kind, to live in tinge of satisfaction,
The blessings you gain would be eternal,
As nothing greater than gratification.