By Poonam Pachouri
Divine love—learn to die,
Where sacrifice casts its radiant light.
Not just pain, not just grief,
But a heart that burns to ash in belief.
Aching wounds birth a luminous flame,
Magnificent, fierce—never the same.
Dancing with air, swirling with pain,
A fairy’s fire, unbound, untamed.
Perhaps she forgets the cost of change,
Lost in the beauty of her own exchange.
Every moment—a step, a breath,
Towards the quiet embrace of death.
Yet life reflects in ember’s glow,
Burn, melt, let the sorrow flow.
But never forget—through pain, through night,
You are the flame that brings forth light.
When the night is too dark, it lures the innocent,
Tiny wings drawn to a glow so magnificent.
Perhaps they fly toward warmth and life,
Yet the path they take leads only to strife.
A silent flame, a deadly embrace,
A beauty that hides its fatal face.
Much like humans lost in their way,
Chasing mirages that lead them astray.
Believing in echoes, in hollow gleams,
Blinded by illusions, by borrowed dreams.
For not all light is truth and grace—
Some merely mask a darker place.
By-Poonam Pachouri