A poem should be soundless as the flight of birds...A poem should be equal to not true....A poem should not mean but be.

The Candle

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All the lights went off
Oh! what darkness
I lit a candle in my room
A spark of light
Disturbing the confidence of darkness
Isn’t it amazing? A small candle
A bit of light
Suddenly a moth came straight
Towards the light
Burned her wings
She could not fly
She fluttered helplessly
She didn’t fear the light
To her it was a bit of light
But which sparked her life
She lay helpless on the ground
No more flying for her
Until she gets a new pair of wings
I hope she would not direct
Herself again towards the light
Of a small candle
Which produces just a bit of light
Conquering your darkness.

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Dinita Rai
J P Sharma Road
Darjeeling