Palash-flame of the forest

I remember the day my mother got me a bouquet,

My darling this is Palash, the flame of the forest.

A poet’s imagination imbibed life to your glory making you my pheonix.

Oh! How beautiful is your glow, like the fire burning bright.

Or maybe the reflection of my inner self, the entropy within my mind.

Manifestation of the burning flame of desire and pain I try to tame in my heart.

I gaze upon your fiery red blossom contemplating my inner blaze,

So bright, so beautiful yet innocent just the same.

When my world had more meaning, when things didn’t fall apart.

I fathom a melancholy, the days of my unblemished childhood,

When summer eves were just meant for long walks with my mother

And nights were for listening to old forgotten tales from my father.

I set my eyes today at the crimson hues of your petals

My mind was transfixed at that one memory at las.

A lesson I learnt from my mother, and a thousand ways to interpret.

You appeared to me like a sign from the great beyond, I realized my inner turbulence,

Bringing forth the reminiscence of my peace.

May be that’s what I have been missing, I must find my peace.

I am still haunted by my demons, my nemesis is my own mind

That resides in the fortress of my subconscious.

I know I can keep it at check; I will survive its vicious attacks.

Because in this colourless world, you never fail to amaze,

With your glorious blossom you set the world ablaze.

Maybe just once, but you never disappoint and so can’t I…