Matchstick

I
talk of a Matchstick
that lent fire
to my candle.

It had a
fierce head
of gunpowder
with a slender tail
of ageing wood.

It pondered
all while
and wished
for a name.

It dreamt
all long
and desired
to taste fame.

And,
one fine day

I
came along
and set It
on flames
to light
my candle.

Wax dripped
as the candle blazed.
And, the Matchstick,
through It's Last Rites,
still burnt all in glow
for It's pride.

I
held It's ash
in bare hands
and smelled
It's sacrifice.

It had
brought light
to my world
and had
given life
to my candle.

It had held
It's head high
to burn in spurt
for a name,
and to douse out
with a sparkle
to taste the fame.

Copyright © 11 Oct 2007, by Abhilash Hegde
All Rights Reserved