an artist

All one has to learn
is how to burn
By the last drop of oil left

That’s the goal
But it takes a heavy toll;

The night is dour
But he will never make a detour;
Having ventured into the dark,
Catching finer threads of the spark;
To know —
the strength of a flickering flame,
the faintest glimmer of hope,
and its unfailing brilliance;

That’s how light’s strung on his soul,
Adorned with a sparkling spectrum of ambivalent emotions;
But I know we trip more often
Than you would ever know
And knock over the lamp..
Got to bear this stamp.

This post goes to Eugenia’s 15th June weekly prompt ‘Brilliance ‘.

Published by Smita Ray

Smita Ray is a mother of two lovely kids and hails from the northeastern town of India Gorakhpur. Her perpetual displeasure arising from the hypocrisy in the society underneath the semblance of religion, culture as well as the conditioning for compliance urged her to put down the impressions in her mind. In her spare time, she likes to have some culinary adventures with her kids.

5 thoughts on “an artist

  1. I love the depth of this, especially the ending. And your line “That’s how light’s strung on his soul,” is stunning. Thank you so much for joining in.


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