In a spring fest amidst the frenzy,
A hyacinth was seen smitten to the ground,
Its carcass lay prostrate,
People walked over it unknowingly.
A flower is a statement that nature’s heart is opulent,
To shower itself on its onlookers,
It asks for nothing in return –
Not even its memory.
The world tramples over many a flower,
In the name of democracy and efficiency,
The essence of life is always the least imperative –
Progress is always favored.
In every life flowers bloom,
But not everyone takes them specially,
Many of them are marauded,
Many are not even noticed.
Suffern, New York, December 21, 2016; Rev. Dec. 22,2016
maharaj.kaul@yahoo.com
