Mystic Fable

Here I sit, holding my pen

Trying to come up with a mystic fable,

About the children of nature, the flowers,

And the most passionate ones there are,

The orchids.

So, where will it lead?

I don’t know, and why should I?

They say a poet is a seer,

I agree to some extent,

But a poet’s not a magician

Or something that could be put up on rent.

So, what were we talking about?

The mystic orchids, yes, without a doubt.

Well, to start, Orchid derives from orchis,

Which is the Greek word for testes.

So, you got a hint, why I called it passionate

Or do you need some more as you catch up late?

There are more than thirty thousand types of these,

Now don’t tell me you don’t care about it, oh please!

Even Charles Darwin wrote about them,

And there’s one kind which grows from the stem

Of a tree, this pink one’s called epiphyte,

But as many orchids are this isn’t a parasite.

You know, there is a lot more to poetry,

Other than designing a rhyming symmetry.

So, I am going to work on that right now,

And you yourself can judge, what it’s about.

Well, coming back to the orchids,

They are like angels, and demons, and some have shape

Like a bee, some like a bird, and some like an ape.

It’s just a process of nature, cyclic, never ending.

Each orchid has a partner for itself,

Not another orchid but an insect.

They both have the same design and patterns,

Opposite attract, yes, but not in this case.

Here you will see two, lovers embrace,

For a little time, till the one with wings

Is satisfied and it goes on to the next.

Everyone is unaware, ignorant or otherwise,

To just what happened in this love story,

That’s quite unjust as you may notice,

Why? The insect have way too many partners.

But, that’s how life perpetuates

For these orchids which humanity predate.

You see, that insect actually pollinated,

The flowers and neither of them realised

What it meant to their existence,

Like you’re there and you move on,

But a lot of things happen in between.

Same with poetry, I tell you,

You just don’t know the worth

That your poem holds, till it gets pollinated

And that how life perpetuates.

The mystic orchids, like many things you have ignored,

Are the ones you should take a look at.

Maybe, you’ll find one for yourself,

Your orchid, that will have your shape.

it’s just a flower really, there’s no other way of saying

This, but embrace it with an open heart, and find your conscience playing

A tune so bizarre that you only can hear,

Because only you hold it dear.

So, that’s all I could write about,

A flower of course, is there a doubt?