Blossom
Over the moon?
Below the stars!
Betwixt a waking dream and benumbing reality ...
A baby-faced blossom tries to summon up its courage
before faring on a quixotic quest to face the raging current
that all the while
is threatening to engulf it if it does not swallow its pride.
But once again,
it falls short of breath
and succumbs to the roars of the intimidating tide.
It dilly-dallies:
rarely in a carefree manner …
mostly in restrained desire ...
Subjugated? Nay!
For it hankers after freedom and yearns for defiance.
Subdued? Aye!
And how on earth can it aspire to sham feats of resistance
when it is evermore compelled to don unbefitting attire?
Oh, the poor naïve blossom!
What a shame it is to be an entity of irreconcilable paradoxes!
How come it hearkens to the harp of silence singing the tunes of (re)birth
while listening silently to the deadening melody of the obscure choir?
Does it behove it to pop its head through the few exit doors left ajar
when it does not dare to lift the latch and follow the light?
Yet, on an afterthought: why be so harsh on so fragile a creature
that is attuned to the ebb and flow of nonsensical waves?
A tamed cry is still a cry: a call for help, a call for life!
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