A candle…

LIT by the matchsticks of ambition. A candle which brightens up the whole quarter, too dark that no one know how to get out of it, 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.

Too near, yet so far. 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.

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 flames of opportunity.

Clumped together with everybody else’s, this candle burns in seeking for tomorrow’s fate; its light creeping through the dooms of melancholy reality. Its rays crawling; reaching forth the ends of darkness. Darkness which led humans to sin.

Now, the walled surfaces 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…

…A candle