A Voice Unheard - Part II: Poetry

The Candle's Race

At some point the wind will always outrun the candle and that is the real tragedy,

Symbolic of the human condition - the powerful outshine every other kind, sometimes even illogically,

The howling winds or even a splash of water can kill the flame,

But is life really such a power playing game?

Is that all it is, or could there be more?

The voice from my heart whispers the answer: there is hope for sure,

I trust my inner voice so completely that I know this to be true,

Beyond a shadow of a doubt there is hope for me and you,

Life may always reward the loudest or the strongest and though it certainly seems that way,

You and me and the rest of our kind; we will soon see our day.

And when that day comes it will come with quiet dignity,

Sans all the drama fan fair and it will last till infinity,

It is true, that old Biblical Verse: blessed are the meek,

The truth here lies in the fact that popularity and fame is not what we seek,

A place in this world, a sense of belonging, a moment of happiness,

These things matter far more to us than all the world's gold and glittering riches,

Being the centre of all the world's attention and showing everybody what we can do,

Is not the priority for people like me and you,

We will have our say; life will give us that chance,

And when it does, it will be celebrated without song and dance,

Our place of existence is firmly protected in the cosmic framework of life,

Even though our journey is not without strife,

Things are a little harder for the silent and accepting,

But that hardship is far from deterring,

A good spirit with a sound heart and mind will guide us through,

Kindness has a place of value in this dark world too,

"He is as full of valour as of kindness. Princely in both."

T'is another splendid Shakespearean quote,

Whether such a human who poses a balance of both these qualities exists I do not know,

It is a journey to get them; one that the meek are far more likely to go,

This is no to belittle the strong or the loud for they are needed too,

They however must not brush aside or neglect the meek so soon,

The meek are the candles that illuminate the dark days this world so often sees,

Because t'is they who so deeply feel,

It may be easy to trample on their voices and dreams,

But shouting them out to extinction isn't as easy as it seems,

They too have the self-preserving human spirit to fight for surviving,

The only difference is that they do it with a sense of proportion that is including,

The meek take as many along with them; even let them out shine,

They watch willingly as others feed off their skill and glory from the side lines,

The strong would see this to be weak, even moronic,

The fight for supremacy in any way runs the risk of being despotic,

Us all fighting for attention and glory would only lead to destruction of the human race,

The meek bring in the element that each one has a defined space,

Spit on the gentle or chew them out it won't matter,

The only thing that would lead to is egos become unduly fatter,

The patient race the candle's race; one of immense opposition with their life source being drained.

But like a candle's flame, the spirit of the meek can be rekindledagain.