By Srilata Banerjee
Fire in the shadows,
Licking at the dust of ages,
Cringing from cobwebs that glue the mind,
And distorted images that peep and leer.
But they can’t douse
The fire in the shadows.
It’s waiting for that one breath of air,
Blowing from its own heart,
Stirring cobwebs, weakening clammy links.
Breath that stirs the dust with its releasing finger,
Piercing the darkness, showing the way…
And the fire in the shadows creeps out.
Slowly at first, reaching fingers of light
Out of the shadows.
Then it takes life from its own breath
To blaze, to light and burn, and warm and scare,
And show the way.
Fire in the shadows, free…
Free to leap up and touch the heavens,
And be one with the divine light.
Free to plumb the depths of hell,
And unite with the divine darkness.
Free to be the flame it was meant to be.
Destroying, creating, blazing,
Being itself. Fire alive.
No longer fire in the shadows!