What Flowers Do Gods Want?

Flowers are the sparkling ornaments of God

That we all offer to Him in plenty to worship

Red, yellow, pink- all petals sewed in a bead

Their beauties spread the incense soul deep

We all compete to pluck beauties from plant

Rob off her mother as if it is our right natural

We bare her to fare for rituals fearing fetish rant

But we do it against Nature’s wish perennial

There was an old lady who visited a garden every day

In the name of her morning walk, she bared every plant

She plucked those blossoming plants but not one that lay

Even the buds were not spared from her greed incessant

She used to empty the entire garden in a few second

Until she had filled his sack full to fling it in flying pride

She sat quite with a vulture’s gaze at the late visitant

When all had left, she would exit like a prince’s bride

One day a child dropped in the garden at the dawn

While she was resting on a bench after a long walk

Her eyes became sharp to spy as she looked stern

She followed his footsteps, she became tensed stark

The boy danced in joy, sang in coy to drink the wine of nature

He flew like a bird with opening arms all around the garden

Morning dew when kissed by the first ray of a shy sun lover

Twinkles to mingle with the nature to soothe bride forlornly

The old lady was behind him panting and fumbling in a fear

He might pluck her share of flowers without leaving a single

Then what she would offer to her God, Who would forebear

The wrath of God for not being able to offer even a petal

The thought was very scary as she was a devoted worshipper

Who never stopped prayer even during unwell days at home?

She remained on fast throughout day and night religious finer

All her wishes had come true in life by the almighty’s boon

The boy ran to a marigold plant with a bag with his hand

He tossed the flowers, smelled, kissed them like his doll

His eyes smiled, face thrilled by the yellow petals bent

Laughed louder in joy with a morning breeze so cool

The vulture was restless with his every touch of love

She rose like a squirrel to see if her plant was bared

Again, she became calm by seeing the little boy’s move

He picked up grounded beauties, the hanging one spared

He moved the stem like a sword for the dead ones to fall

Fallen flowers were favored by him to fill his flinging bag

Leaving the lady to ponder over his act of leaving floral

He came again in the next morn to repeat his lunatic lag

The dawn recital of fallen assembly of the lilies and roses

She bore a thought that the child could be the son the gardener

Who was sleeping and sending his son to clean drifted posies

She abhorred such cheats on workers who are a burden forever

 

Her thoughts were like clouds that burst to devour the beauty

Of her wisdom and wit like a mariner, that is lost in a violent sea

She was lost in her fancies of ritual greed to flaunt a halo so mighty

When eyes eclipse vision, senses dilute soul, How God could help thee

A loud shout from the main gate broke her morning slumber

She was amazed to see a driver standing beside a luxurious car

He called him repeatedly as he was in a hurry to go home earlier

The boy waved his hands to say he would collect flower faster

All her fancies vanished like the dawn drowns the darkness

She ran towards the boy to know why he gathered the fallen

He smiled, he laughed, he sighed, he giggled in jovial response

She could not know what he spoke about, felt fumbled smitten

On insistence repeated, he uttered the tenets of wisdom

That for three reasons, he liked to collect the flower that fell

“I clean the park to look beautiful for the visual delight fathom”

She took a step back on hearing old golden truth of wise people

“I don’t own this garden, so I can’t end the life of a flower,

The gardener is the real owner, who toils days and year;

His sweats water the plant in the scorching sun for its life longer.

It takes fraction to destroy an art but years to paint by nature”

Her mouth was shut by his words arrowed to her ignorant soul

“My mother offers the lying flowers to worship God’

She says that Gods do not see the flowers that are offered

The devotion of self and sanctity of soul are two offerings good”

The driver shouted at a distance to go home as they were late

Her eyes stopped blink as she stood like an abandoned corpse

Decades of her life had passed to paint black on his soul’s slate

But now she had found light to brush it with child’s wisdom sparse