Ember
The old ember is still red hot
Concealed under the dry soot
Alike a drunken architect’ latent intellect
Like a cast off genius in a deep slumber
Like a hidden flower diffusing its scent
People with chattering teeth slither
Around the charring timber; yet compliment
That it’s all due to the fine weather
The old ember doesn’t take any umbrage
It burns and burns till it becomes ashes
Like a sage who sears his desires
To earn the unseen heavens
As if it is paying its last homage
To the humans who nurtured her
Into a tree and later ruthlessly slivered
Into hapless firewood
A sweet-bitter feeling indeed! !
When at last the ember becomes a cinder
Starts all shivering and cowering around
While the absonant conclusions
Are freezing into a cold consciousness
People mutter, “Oh ember! We miss your ardor”
poem by Sathya Narayana
Added by Poetry Lover
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