I don’t know why, a stroke of nature left me stranded on the road.
I am just a tender flower, having no preconceptions or bias,
Always fresh as long as I live, and my fragrance wafts all over,
Regardless of the observer, I do what am supposed to do,
I express nothing but my nature, my inherent self, am that am, always.
I have no displeasure over my structure or color, neither do I have a sense of envy,
Today am covered with the fresh dew drops, am ready to bloom and I know that soon I will wither, But still I love this moment, being with my kindred;
Sometimes, somebody appreciates me, takes me home, plucked away from my source of life Quickening the process of withering and death, am presented to somebody's loved one as a gift, Never are they aware that am alive when in the plant .....................................and my journey to death starts when plucked,
So why does somebody love to present death to someone they love.
Is it a symbolic way of saying - "Oh my dear one, to live and to love you should learn to die?"
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