شمع اور پروانہ

عشق آں شعلہ است کہ جُز در دلِ مَجنون نَیست
نُورِ آن شَمع کہ در خانۂ پروانَہ

Ishq an shula ast ke juz dar dil e Majnun nayst
Nur e an sham that dar khana ye parvana nayst

Love is that candle which burns only in the heart of the devoted,
A light that cannot be contained within the home of the moth,

-Rumi-

We searched for a way to tell you what this day means to us.
Not just in flowers or vows or celebration,
but in something deeper
something that could hold the weight of love that’s been shaped by centuries,
carried in the hands of our ancestors,
and now, rests quietly in ours.

We found it in the image of the candle and the moth.

This isn’t just a piece of poetry, it’s a story older than time,
told by Rumi, by Hafez, by Ghalib
and by every soul who’s ever known what it means
to be drawn to something greater than themselves.

The candle stands still—glowing, steady, a light in the dark.
The moth moves toward it—not foolishly,
but bravely.
Because to the moth, even a moment in that warmth
is worth a lifetime in the cold.

That is what love is to us.

It’s not about perfection.
It’s not about never falling.
It’s about choosing, again and again,
to move toward one another,
especially when the world gives you every reason to turn away.

It’s about showing up with all your tenderness,
your flaws, your courage—
and saying:
“Here I am. I see your light. I choose it. I choose you.”

This image—this ancient, beautiful truth—
reminds us that love is not loud.
It does not insist.
It simply waits, glowing softly,
until two people are brave enough to walk toward it
and let it change them.

We chose the candle and the moth
because we wanted our love to have roots—
deep ones.
Roots that stretch back through language and history
and forward through whatever life brings next.

And if we’re lucky,
decades from now,
when time has carved lines into our hands and faces,
we’ll still be doing what we began today:
circling each other,
gently,
bravely,
in the light.