A wave of thousands stood upright,
To get a share of the eternal light.
But each had its own peerless gleam,
And all of them had a beautiful dream.
With soft steps they walked to the light ,
As the teachers taught "what's right."
But some of them flamed differently,
And that fire, they could not see.
Few candles lit and went on to be,
A illuminance of the society.
Others were left trying to glow,
But their own best, they would never know.
Help was given and wax was served,
But "only" the best ones deserved.
The others found the system to be,
A serious joke and hard irony.
The unlit were damned with a darkened shroud,
And the burning appeared too proud.
Amidst the hustle emerged a crack,
Between the fluorescent light and cursed black.
The teachers felt the brightest would stand,
And made useless the candle stand.
For colored flares were meant to be,
A million combinations of diverse glory.
A race of fire was set ablaze,
Amidst bland lights of scheduled haze.
The candles burnt with a dusky pallor,
Never knew their boon was color.
And then the candles lost the spark,
Learnt to live by teacher's remark.
Before the fire could enlight the head,
The teachers termed their color dead.
YOU ARE READING
Poetree
PoetryA compilation of poems on issues like human trafficking, war , racism etc. written by Shuvam Roy. I hope you read and enjoy it, please give it a try. :)
