Inherited Lamp

by Kingshuk Chakraborty

Why to think about the darkness?

The path is unknown that ducks the clouds.

Wind is also not in favor.

Yet, why to feel immersed

By the sweeping rain?

Between the stretched-out arms

Find the world

Where a fist of sunshine

Softly caresses the wounds.

Night carries me to its grave.

Blinking fireflies

In the closed chest

Haven’t learned to sleep

So, why shouldn’t I listen

To the story of dawn?

If gathered clouds grow

To bring in an inevitable storm,

Passing through it

Wish, I still had then

The unfeigned light

Of an inherited lamp.

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