As a kid I loved the blast of fire crackers
And as age dawned
The soothing flame of an oil lamp
Was enough to keep the warmth alive
But the thing is I never stopped burning bright,
My curiosities leaving mounds of ash behind
only to rise on gunpowder wings
As tiny interior decorators
moving out of a roofless home
To reach out for the illusion of fireworks
displaying a catalog of vibrant designs,
Burning away the cobwebs of the mind
With their dance moves of dazzling light.
It isn't such a big task getting used
To the air and sound pollution
Resulting from these festive explosions
When the head itself is a shooting range
Where thoughts bullet their way through
Leaving countless dents and empty shells
Or emotions erupt all of a sudden as
Dormant volcanoes cauterizing their way
Through the heaving ribcage.
But now the fire fosters me well
Because I have learnt to keep the wick floating
Above this carnage so as to capture
all of this blitzkrieg into a tiny flame.
With each new inner conflict
Brighter burns this wick,
Keeping the night company
Till the sun arrives,
Revelling in this sense of chivalry
So as not to be mistaken by the dark
As earthen and ordinary.
And today seeing so many lights
flickering before my eyes
I empathize with this tiny flame that divides but remains as bright
Because both of us aren't that different
when it comes to defusing the firecracker inside.