A
flower blooms out of pain, not in ecstasy.
When
it is dusty all around, the earth is dead dried,
yellow
keeps grasping the emerald.
Surrounded
by the moribund leaves a flower blooms-
in
that disarranged weather of anguish.
It
heaves out vivacious lot of colors
from
a hidden corner of the dehydrated soil.
It
preserves a calm trait for you even in this harsh air.
It
protects the vibrant red from the flaming sun of late winter.
Not
in bliss, however, a flower blooms with those agonies.
That
persistent desire for blooming of a flower causes
the
sky melt once in the month of Phagun.
When
the flower persuades to put fire in the sky
Bringing
out their inner struggles to the world,
at
that intense call even the dead gets a life.
in
return of a flower's pain of blooming, a quid pro quo.
If
you consider blooming of a flower is all about ecstasy
witnessing
the ocean of happiness today
then
you might be wrong.
No
flower blooms just for the sake of luxury.
A
flower blooms out of pain, so that in ecstasy
you
can dance in the spring festivity.
The
act, blooming of a flower, itself is an incredible rebel.
Without
acknowledging a rebellious hail
would
you say- 'Oh! I love flowers?' Would you?
Would you gift a bucket of flowers at a lavish party?
