It was the lonely hour, bare, still and parched ,
Close by dwelt a Barren emotion, torn in sacred space,
Held in harness was a myth, clasped in care was a tryst,
And as simple thoughts born of complex mindscapes pause,
The winds whisper and the breeze beckons,
Tis this state of being that surrenders,
To the essence of life and the presence of death,
Culled into candid truths and mulled in measured fate,
Yet apart from the darkness, there lay the light,
A Pauper in expression, yet free in poverty,
A Flicker in truth, yet swayed by reality,
Bright in fault, yet crimson in the visage,
And as the winds reached out, the flames flickered,
Fuelled by faith and ruled by hope,
A blaze in birth and a light in laze,
And as incense hope embraced and sadness eloped,
The candle simply burned! Just a flame in fasting joy!