The Matchstick
P Pradip Chattopadhyay
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When the path is dark
The great sayings I forget.
The words of wisdom,
Years of sermons,
They appear so void and useless,
So hollow and lightless!
Amid the menacing clouds
That tries to run me down
And makes the way out of sight,
A simple thing does the magic -
A lean wooden matchstick!
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