Do they yearn for the shimmer of the lamps,
That laud their abilities in conceit?
But the tiny stroboscope-like flies
Fly yonder to the unknown lands,
Beaming their beams to wherever they will,
Amazing and pleasing all the souls
The most urbane of us,
Possess the brightest glimmer,
No matter how exiguous,
Or how much the ambience is dimmer.
They aren’t big in size ,you see.
It’s a big heart that makes us big.
Raptured by their ease in ecstasy, aren’t we?
That balance their temperance even in asperity,
But the puny harmless flies,
Shine alive in the depth of nigritude,
Unleashing their blaze to places ,where
Others can hardly see or be seen.
The most austere of us,
Wage the remotest route,
No matter how cumbersome,
We tread,we aim and we shoot.
They hardly utter voices for the folk to listen,
It’s our inner lumosity that makes others speak.