At the corner of a room..
Lit a small flame..
Flickering with every blow of air..
But did not get succumbed.
It lit the whole darkness around..
Giving colour to everything..
For if it blows away..
It will be pitch black again..
Happily standing untamed it burnt..
Giving the whole world the shining joy..
The whole world..
Except her own world..
The very corner was dark..
The base of it pitch black..
It wept wax each moment..
But who cares to look back.
Trying to keep every other spot shining..
She lost to her own darkness..
The saddened ones takes out the best smile,
That's the paradox of life..
But there was one who loved that flame...
Who wanted to be her oil..
And in those windy times..
Who wanted to support her through turmoil..
He was the most shining spot you know..
Nearest to the flame..
But he always tried to spill over..
To share the darkness of the flame..
He knew what that would cost..
In sharing the glooms, the connection was lost..
Happiness decreases on sharing and Sadness increases...
The paradox of life..
The oil knew what he his leading to..
And still it spill over...
Aware that the flame will keep burning..
Fuelled by a new oil poured for it..
And he would be the part of the pitch black world..
The world of the flame..
Though not getting to meet her again..
He would be happy and contended.
Praying each day that the flame goes on shining...
And after her last day..
Come in his arms..
Together embracing the darkness..
Forever.
-@run
