Lamp And Shadow

As the lamp fades

Its glow ever dimming

An aura of resignation 

Emanated from it.

It is the flame that feeds on the oil,

Yet it is the shadow that grows.

Their conflict fills the silence

The gray is more pronounced with each passing instant.

Yet the struggle persists,

There seems to be no near end

It is taxing on either front;

More so on that of Light.

The black cloak,

A shroud of evil,

Engulfs all that resist it's spread

In its unending oppression.

The white is no longer white,

Impurity is its disease,

Brought forth by the powerful plague

Remedy is an impossibility.

The oil is the flame's lone medicine,

To tide over the bitter struggle

Yet it doesn't heal; only gives longevity

To suffer the steady darkening.

The lamp bears the dark,

Like Atlas the sky.

The temptation to fall is felt,

But the Curse is honored instead.

Though its reserves diminish  

And the shadow conquers

The flame, though flickering,

Cuts through the dark with its glow.

The flame summons one last effort

To assert its defiance

It glows now brighter than ever

Even the darkness seems stunned momentarily

Passionate rage radiates from it

Pushing back the darkness

Like an order to kneel and cower

A compulsion to oblige.

But the dark recovers, no longer stupefied

The Light is weakened from its strain

This weakness thus exploited,

The flame is slain.

The battle is won,

The silence is no longer a void

As the Dark rejoices

Yet another triumph over the Light.

There is none to lament the flame

For the struggle is forgotten; only the victor is remembered.

Anish Pratik Yayavaram of XI - A