A candle
Lit by the matchsticks of ambition. A candle which brightens up the whole quarter, too dark for someone to find a way how to get out, without exhibition of one. Mysteries of the past still remain unsolved. This candle - a speck glowing amidst vengeful solitude.
Just a candle, with the luminescence of filthy cravings and of soaring dreams.
Seems near, yet a bit far ahead.
I thrived for what I wanted to clasp, through my own weakness. My deprivation - with the will of skepticism for things too hard to explain by practicality, rational thinking & technical illusions.
I longed to par for human intimacy, with acceptance of imperfection, urging for the limits of my existence...
a
an existence like that of a lit candle, with the fierce roar for profound truth & deliberate reasoning, and the indisputable quench for experience. I hold one, with the flames of opportunity.
Clumped together with everybody else, this candle burns in seeking my fate; its light creeping through the dooms of melancholy reality. Its rays crawling; reaching forth the ends of darkness, which led humans to sin.
Now, the walled corners of the quarter seems clear – an image of hope flocking towards the drifting nation, An upwelling of desperate vigilance & consolidated awareness.
A light of thy nation
.editedfor2010elections.
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