Be it a bolt from the Heavens,
or a fierce North wind truly cold.
Be it a hideous call of ravens,
or a hellish wrath seemingly bold.
What can an oil lamp hereby do,
with the mild flame hitherto flickering?
It holds on with blue and yellow hue,
against all odds with silent roaring.
Be not a fire that dies in rain,
but a tiny flame keeping up the fight.
The faith, hope will not perish in vain,
but show the path with Honour and Might.
Prasenjit©1997-2017
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