Tuesday 18 August 2009

A MOTH SPORTS BY CANDLE LIGHT

AS PINE TREES bend beneath a pile of snow,
So shall I kneel before your mighty power,
This sunset eve, this solemn silent hour.
Midget 'me' yields! only now do I know
That I must die for angel wings to grow.
In one ultramarine wave of bliss, our
Hearts are blent beneath the marriage bower,
To fuse in a lantern's incandescent glow.

Consumed by fierce naked white hot flame,
Like a moth who flies too near the light,
Bewildered, blazing, brilliantly bright,
Mind's flint is struck with reverence for your Name.
My eyes can no more bear this dazzling sight,
'I Am That', by your Grace, eternally the same!

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