The Candle
(after Ghalib)
by Noor Singh Khalsa
what else could create the vast emptiness of this night?
Those fingers once wove my hair into a tight braid
Now neglect has bred entanglements that defy hope
The candle on the table weeps long tears of wax
a tiny flame in an air that's cold beyond all tears
The blushing moon calls to dreamers through the clouds
We do not know what will be, only what cannot be
Shadows grow and shrink in the pulse of the flame
Not so, hearts that lie still as paving stone