The first lamp from fire
Lit early in the morning
At the home altar
Praying for patience
Enlightenment, well-being
The first fire
Lit by a bride
In her new home
The first dish cooked
Sweet and warm, an augury
The raging fire
In the stomach
The most powerful one
That can turn anything
Into sustenance, strength
The fire that burns
In the heart
Rage, jealousy, pain
Stoking unrest, discord
Destruction and desolation
The fire that become power
Energising motors
Machines engines and matter
That illuminates with just a switch
Cities, wildernesses and sea depths
Fire like lightening
That can devastate
Forests, civilizations, human
Turning into ashes in minutes
Years of development, growth, evolution
Fire that can transform
Turn raw into edible
Darkness to light
Matter to nothing
Life to death to dust
Welcome to the Friday Loose Bloggers Consortium where Anu, Ashok, Conrad, Delirious, Gaelikaa, Grannymar, Magpie11, Paul, Maria the Silver Fox, Rummuser , Will Knott, Shackman and I write on the same topic. Please do visit the linked blogs to get different flavours of the same topic.
This and That, There and Here 
The first fire lit by a bride… lovely. Wonderful post, Padmini
Blessings – Maxi
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Thank you Maxi..the first dish an Indian bride cooks in her new family home is a sweet dish!
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I wasn’t expecting poetry.
Very good.
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Sometimes the poet in me, like Rip Van Winkle, stirs and the muse strikes.
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A wonderful poem and you covered all angles.
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From the Guru–a great compliment. Thanks.
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This is so beautiful and thougthful. Your words capture the essence of fire and your last line – Life to death to dust remain on my tongue and lingers in my brain which is how I know I loved the poem and my greatest compliment.
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Maria-that is a really heart warming compliment. Thank you. It made my day. Take care.
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I am finding it difficult to comment since yesterday in your blog, This is the fourth time that I am trying, I just wish to say, Thathaasthu.
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Yoo’re gonna make me a fan of poetry yet. Very nice.
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That is nice of you….I am not a poet….just an occasional one.
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Thathaasthu from me to you too.
Now that’s a poem I understand. I read the poetry in The New Yorker magazine but that’s poetry NOT to be understood.
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Wow! Double wow…I am floating…thanks and bless you.
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A beautiful piece of poetry. Lovely!
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Thanks Shail!
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WOW!!!!
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