The Lamp

We had a golden lamp,
One we loved quite dear.
It shone bright in day or dark.
Filled with inner glow,
It lit the world around it.
Those rays of light
Came from deep within
Bringing cheer to all.

The oil in the lamp grew low
And dimmer grew its light
And though we loved that dear thing still
We missed its loving glow.
We asked the keeper
‘please fill it sir’,
Our lamp is discontent
To sit idle with no oil.

Unhappy with itself
It cannot give light to others
Without oil to burn
The darkness wins the battle.
‘The keeper will come’
We tell ourselves,
And know it to be true,
For this lamp was made by him.