My dear soul, don't worry
Be like the lamp
For a lamp has no qualms
It is what it remains, in light or dark
Into smoke and lamp black
Let the oil that has fed your flame
Dry as the blacksmith's anvil
Once you have faded,
Look around
All you see is darkness
Yet you kept it away, in futility
The ones you kept warm, comforted
Shall fade to black, and be in remorse
For they know not what you gave
For they want not to know
Let your flame flicker
But burn bright, fierce, and strong
Light up the room, regardless
Draw the moths, in your songs.
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