The Flower
It was a beautiful evening. The sky had a reddish hue as if it is angry at the sun for leaving it again. There was a gentle breeze and the air was filled with the fragrance of flowers. There was a small garden on the wayside. It had flowers of different colors, different sizes and different smells. Some of them were really pretty and many butterflies visit them for their nectar. In this garden, there is one flower in a corner. Ugly and uncared for, this flower just existed. Not lived, just existed. No butterfly ever came to it though he had the sweetest nectar to offer. All the butterflies went to the pretty flowers attracted by their myriad colors. One fine day, he saw this butterfly flying towards him. She is one of the most beautiful creatures he has ever seen. When he saw the sunlight playing on the tips of her wings, he thanked whatever powers maybe for being able to see the spectacle. Seeing her was worth all the pain and drab existence. She came and landed on him and sucked the nectar. He was so happy that he found someone he can offer his nectar. The ugly flower was transformed by the sheer brilliance and beauty of this butterfly. He was never as happy as he was today. He would never be as happy again. And then, she went away. Just like that. The foolish flower thought she will come again. He started making more nectar for her: The sweetest nectar possible hoping she will return. The entire plant was just making more and more nectar neglecting itself. It wasn’t taking care of itself. He was still hoping that she would come again. But she moved on to the pretty flowers. Everyday he sees the butterfly from the distance and craves for her knowing that she will never come to him again.
What can this flower do? All it has is nectar to offer. He stored so much nectar that it started overflowing. It was as if the plant was crying in the night when no one can see him. After many days, the plant made so much nectar that the flower became really heavy. It couldn’t bear the weight of the nectar. It didn’t have the strength to carry on. The flower fell off from the plant. It was lying in the dust and the nectar was flowing into the ground. As if it is bleeding. He could see the butterfly jumping playfully from one flower to another. She was much more beautiful than before. She was coming towards him because she couldn’t find nectar that tasted like his. But it was too late. The flower was broken and the nectar is in the dust. He just didn’t have anything to offer her. While concentrating his energies on making the nectar, the plant totally neglected himself. He was rotting from inside. He was dying from inside. Couple of days later, he saw the gardener coming towards him. There was a sickle in his hand. He knew his time has come. He was happy that he is being put out of his misery. As the sickle was cutting through him, he was thinking of the butterfly. Thinking of how he would do the same thing again and again, without any regrets, if he was given a chance. But little did he know that he was doomed from the very beginning.
The ugly flower he is.
What can this flower do? All it has is nectar to offer. He stored so much nectar that it started overflowing. It was as if the plant was crying in the night when no one can see him. After many days, the plant made so much nectar that the flower became really heavy. It couldn’t bear the weight of the nectar. It didn’t have the strength to carry on. The flower fell off from the plant. It was lying in the dust and the nectar was flowing into the ground. As if it is bleeding. He could see the butterfly jumping playfully from one flower to another. She was much more beautiful than before. She was coming towards him because she couldn’t find nectar that tasted like his. But it was too late. The flower was broken and the nectar is in the dust. He just didn’t have anything to offer her. While concentrating his energies on making the nectar, the plant totally neglected himself. He was rotting from inside. He was dying from inside. Couple of days later, he saw the gardener coming towards him. There was a sickle in his hand. He knew his time has come. He was happy that he is being put out of his misery. As the sickle was cutting through him, he was thinking of the butterfly. Thinking of how he would do the same thing again and again, without any regrets, if he was given a chance. But little did he know that he was doomed from the very beginning.
The ugly flower he is.
posted by Saip at 6:12 PM
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