Allegory Poems-8 Poem by ashok jadhav

1. Life as a Borrowed Flame
I carry a flame I did not light,
Shield it from the wind each night.
It warms my hands, it scars my skin,
Reminds me how brief fire has been.
One day it will return to air,
Leaving ash of how I dared.
Life is not the spark we claim—
It is how we guard a borrowed flame.
2. Meaning as a Moving Target
Meaning stood where I once aimed,
Shifted just as it was named.
Each answer bent, each purpose fled,
Laughing paths where feet had led.
At last I ran without a mark,
Found sense within the restless arc.
Meaning is not a place to stay—
It moves so we keep living on the way.
3. Absurdity as a Laughing Void
The void did not threaten or explain,
It laughed at loss, it laughed at gain.
Questions echoed, hollow, thin,
Answers fell and broke within.
I laughed back once, without defense,
And felt relief in nonsense.
The absurd dissolves despair
When we refuse to kneel to care.
4. Choice as an Irreversible Step
One step fell louder than a scream,
Cutting loose the might-have-been.
Behind me closed a thousand doors,
Ahead, a path without assures.
Choice is not the act of will,
But living with its echo still.
We walk forever in the sound
Of one true step on solid ground.
5. Nothingness as an Open Field
Nothing waited, wide and clear,
No fence of hope, no post of fear.
It did not ask me who to be,
Nor promised fruit on any tree.
In that space, bare and vast,
I felt my freedom unsurpassed.
Nothingness is not the end—
It is the field where we begin.
6. Humanity as a Question Unanswered
We asked the sky, the dust, the bone,
What makes us more than flesh alone.
No voice replied, no script appeared,
Only echoes of what we feared.
Perhaps we are the asking sound,
A question walking, unbound.
Humanity lives not in reply—
But in the courage to still ask why.
7. The Clock That Eats Time
The clock devoured hour and day,
Chewed our yesterdays away.
It grew fat on moments missed,
On future plans that didn't exist.
We fed it youth, we fed it sleep,
Till hunger taught us what to keep.
Time is not what clocks consume—
It is what we save from doom.
8. A Voice Calling from Nowhere
A voice called out from nowhere near,
No mouth, no face, no origin clear.
It named me when I felt undone,
Asked me to stand, not to run.
I searched for proof, a source, a sign—
Found only resolve that felt like mine.
Some calls are not meant to be traced—
They rise from depths we haven't faced.