A writing I found on a memo pad, maybe one to three years old. It didn't have a title so I made one up.
Light-Bearer
When I carried a name and a light
Way up in the sky, glowing bright
I didn't feel any burn.
But then, I needed some fuel
and I guess I forgot to turn
the lamp slowly, so it was
suddenly cool.
Then the burden was heavy
and the pain was so intense
I jumped, again and again
realizing I was now crouched
and then, utterly slouched.
And it felt like it was getting cold
and — woe! — I guessed
maybe I needed some fuel
(having forgotten, you see,
the turn of events) —
and I asked, and down it poured,
crushing me into the floor.
I couldn't breathe, you understand,
but could silently ask that
the suffering stop — as
liquid from my burden poured
staining the linen top.
Till a wise man fell and remembered
with me — I held not a feast, but a flame, —
and touched my burden, and touched
me too, and up we flew —
higher and higher again.
