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Candle
There he was still as a windless night,
As if adorned in the drapes of the stormy sky,
His shield covering the faintest shimmer's plight.
The candle held on to its whispering glow,
On the shores of the unending sea,
It held on in the ruthless wind's blow.
Why the ritual of protecting a such memory,
In the great winds of every new spring,
Having slightest the light of the star's treasury?
"It must live on in the dark, in the light,
It must live on in the sun, in the rain,
For she still lives, still seeks this sight."
Copyright ©
Ranaditya Adhikary
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