by Sridhar Thiagarajan
[box]A flower stranded on the road, plucked away from its source… if the flower could speak, this is probably what it would have to say. Sridhar Thiagarajan pens the flower’s thoughts.[/box]I am just a tender flower,
stranded on the road by a stroke of nature.
I have 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 fresh dew drops,
am ready to bloom but I know soon I will wither.
Yet 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 my 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 death begins when plucked;
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’?
Pic : pepperedjane : http://www.flickr.com/photos/pepperedjane/
[facebook]share[/facebook] [retweet]tweet[/retweet]
