The delicate lustre of its petals,
The sweet smell in the air,
The dazzling colours of beauty,
The flower is in full bloom.
The bees swarm around,
Butterflies flutter their wings,
The sweet aroma of attraction
Flatters the flower too soon.
Night approaches by,
Wrinkles appear on its skin,
It has aged its while,
It has now lost its bloom.
A bud next to it,
One so young in life,
Doesn’t grasp the purpose.
Does not realize their doom.
It murmurs a gentle prayer,
‘May thou wither in peace’,
‘For it is now time,
For me to see the noon.’
‘O Little one,
Do not bask in this glory,
For our beauty is a curse
As much it is a boon.’
‘We flatter ourselves
When our petals wide open,
For we only cherish
A single noon.’
O Mighty Creator,
Whoever thou art,
What is thine purpose
For cursing us thus?
To see but a day
And perish the next.
A taste of freedom
With an eternity in our tomb.
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