The Flame That Refused to Die
The earth beneath his feet
cracks open like an old wound,
the weight of it pressing
against the breath in his chest.
There is no escape,
only the endless stretch of the horizon,
the unforgiving sun
that watches with cold eyes.
But in the quiet places,
where no one speaks,
where no one dares to hope,
there is a flicker —
small, fragile,
like a leaf caught in the wind,
but it does not break.
The world asks for everything,
takes everything,
and yet the heart keeps beating,
keeps holding on
to a memory,
to a thought
that maybe, just maybe,
there is something more.
The debts pile high,
the land dries out,
but still, the body stands.
Still, the voice rises
against the storm.
For what is a man
if not the sum of his choices,
the echo of his dreams
shouting in the dark?
Ram Lal knows the road ahead
will be long and hard,
but the flame inside him,
Although it is small, it will never die.
He may fall,
but he will rise again,
with quiet strength,
driven by a promise to himself.
The journey may be uncertain,
but as long as the sun rises,
He will, too, be.

***
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