Who Knows What It Is Poem by Ramakrushna Sahu

When the lamp was lit
A circle of darkness
was drawn around it
And on the canvas of darkness
Were drawn many faces of light

Only one was the lamp though
And the same the ray of light
But the reflections were many
Of different colors & shape & size

The flame of lamp
Untouched by the peripheral world
By the bandage of breathing
Was the silent spectator of the play
Of the faces cast as shadows
on the screen

The play was of love and fight
Of joy and suffering
With no end and any meaning
Who knows what it is
A melodrama, a farce or a tragedy?