The oil lamp

The oil lamp is not a light thing but an oil
Just a body that is not life but a stillness
Seeking its intermittent glory up and down.

The oil is our darkness eating itself to light
A whiff of breath that imbues a darkling night
A climbing of wall to lose oneself in the sky.

The lamp is a dying flower smelling of God.
The lamp is death dying to make a little life.

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