The Madman At The Woods

Walking along the edge of the forest one fine day I saw a man there, almost looking like a mad one his hair was all unruly, his beard long and messy. stranger than this looks was, his action that I saw he picked wild flowers from the dark bushes, on and on until his basket overflowed with all that flowers plucked, plucking every flower with at most tender fingers, he did deeply engrossed was he in this act of his sheer madness a curious me, unable to resist, neared him, asked when so many lovely flowers, countless had bloomed in the garden just close by, where everyone loves to go enjoy, plucks and cherish them with limitless glee. Why are you here, all alone, among these wild, wild flowers ? for those flowers, none cares at all, you love them so fiercely

When all the wonder fragrant flowers are just heaped there. Why do you decide to linger here, amid these worthless flowers looking up at me, he gave no answer, but a pondering silent look eyes so powerful, oh god, pierced straight through my heart though could not understand the mysticism of those wonder eyes decided to wait for long, to watch his final purpose, so strange. He sat on the mud, a tender creeper held in hand he did one by one, knotted the flowers with an unsung rhythm of beauty. The scattered wild flowers, neglected by every eye’s so far became the most l unheard lovely garland of flowers amazing. He looked silently at me now with a long suppressed smile though nothing was said, I understood his deep heart message precious thoughts of mind are all around, scattered, lying around but only a godly soul could find and create,, into a poetic verse.