The Candle, By Arvind Venkat
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The Candle, By Arvind Venkat

Oh! Vexed candle—you! 

What sorrows you look into? 

With your crimson heart turning blue, 

Like my wounds were of you. 


As a flaming soul in an oyster’s shell, 

In the silent wisps of air, you dwell. 

Sculpting your masthead with the turn— 

As you burn! As we burn! 


Of the rainbow! Of the purest heaven, 

In a splendid raiment of the seven, 

Cradled, cajoled by the drunken moon; 

Will thou melt as ice too soon? 


Caressing; curling like indefinite waves, 

Roused from the borders of our embrace 

And smiling away like a shining doll, 

Carry you hope for us all. 


Hark! Blow not ye life in vain—

In candled fate our hearts are twain. 

Stand we, together, well out of sight, 

In our desolate weeping of twilight. 


So, burn me down as you might wish, 

Then purge my soul as I perish; 

Bright as the striped tiger then, 

Swivel lazily to your sleeping den.


Away then, in leeway of the skies, 

Shall we ride upon the fireflies;

Our love pure as the morning dew—

You are me, and I, you.