One little candle,
Burned through the night,
Cheerfully chasing,
The gloom with its light.
Routing the shadows,
With luminous skill
To shine on all softly
In joyous goodwill.
Burned through the night,
Cheerfully chasing,
The gloom with its light.
Routing the shadows,
With luminous skill
To shine on all softly
In joyous goodwill.
One little candle,
With ardor intense,
Gave without measure,
Expending its strength.
In total oblation,
Not heeding the cost,
For in dying to self,
Nothing precious is lost.
-Myra D'Souza / 02 June 2020
As always - your poem touched my heart . Will circulate your poem so that a tiny spark may be ignited in those who read it to self immolate on the altar of love and service and sacrifice
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