It is not a very new phenomenon here in my country, right after rain, hundreds of fly ants endlessly buzz around every source of light be it a burning candle or a fluorescent light. Most of them die. Whatever science has to say about them, for poets and artists, they have always meant to have a love interest with light.
As she, the white glory, elopes
With the dark clouds,
Veiling her illuminating beauty
Behind their black attire.
You take the nupital flight
Maddened of sorrow,
At the loss of her sight.
Maddened in the pursuit of an insane desire.
While the dark bodied cry,
Tears of joy
Overwhelmed by the union
With their beloved
You scurry; scouring, searching your
Love, you star-crossed
Lover. Seeking sanity in her segments,
Disembodied reflections on earth.
In everything radiant, fluorescent.
As you land toward the burning,
Scathing beam of my candle,
For a fraction of running sand in the hour glass;
I try to warn you, stop you, save you
But you embrace the light!
The fire in you ignited by
Sheer Passion, warmer
Than the candle ablaze.
Gasps of horror, weeping wax
Your ashen body falls motionless.
You die in love, for love. A love
Never meant to be requited,
Yet you persistent lunatic?
You died for love, the only thing
You ever cherished
So martyrized, not perished?
They say, a deranged death
Yet a courageous one!
Leaving me flustered, you lay dead
A battle lost of life,
But of passion won.
Written by T.Khan