I once saw a flower and was delighted
Beautiful pink , I soon got attached
‘It was smiling at me’, I quickly deduced
It was yearning to be picked up; I did hallucinate,
I was simply deluded and wanted it to be mine
Could not resist, I was a slave of my senses and obliged,
Ignored the thorns, though they were very sharp
Did not matter it was in someone else’s garden
Going through a gamut of desirous feelings
Scraping my hand, grabbed the flower and avulsed
With greed to the point of intense desire,
I clung on to it, I had to keep it, ‘my pink rose’
Despite giving me bleeding and pain in the finger!
I got so attached’ I was nearly possessed by it
Wanted to keep it and guarded it jealously
Its appearance and fragrance, were heavenly
Every other second, I showed it to someone
When they said, what a pretty thing! I was beaming
It is all mine, I found it, and others too like it
But they haven’t got it, I was thrilled
It was blissful to hear the praise
Felt it was not the flower, they praised,
They were all praising me!
Soon it became a part of me
Few fleeting moments, I was happy
Alas! The petals became floppy
Pliability and softness gone
The sweet smell, waned next
Became a foul smelling clot
Soon it had shrunken
Then it became a burden
I hated and threw it in a bin
My happiness flown away
The flower transiently, I owned
I thought would last and adored
I wanted it to be always with me,
Soon, I was glad to throw it away
The happiness gone, Now I am sad
When I analysed it through,
I wasn’t sad, before I saw the flower
So, does it infer, it was the fault of the flower
For smiling at me and perishing later
The flower should not have deceived me!
Is it my eye that is at fault for showing it to me?
I was fine before I saw, that wretched flower
Why did the bewitched flower, invite me?
May be I did not pick the flower
But the flower did pick me, to deceive
What made me to be so attached?
Why did I allow myself to be deceived?
Did I carry an innate craving?
Didn’t I know, the flower would perish
I should have known the nature’s rule
Every living thing will decay and die
If I knew that the flower would perish
Why did it hurt me when it obeyed the rule?
Was it the colour, the shape or the smell?
Why I pandered to transience, is unconceivable
If the flower or my eye did not want to deceive
Who really cheated me, in this ignoble game?
I have seen moths jumping to catch flame and die
The flame or moths’ eyes or wings do not want to kill
So why moths cannot resist the bright lights
Am I the same, to be titillated by pleasure of my senses?
My thoughts became darker but deeper
I am now looking for the culprit, who deceived me
My anger for my eye and for the flower are gone
The flower is inanimate and the eye is just a lens
Sun rays showed the flower to me
Traversing via eye lens into my brain
But why did my brain, want the flower to be mine
Why was I attracted to a perishable thing, mean?
I was confused, the blame game, crisscrossed
Among the flower, my eye and the brain
Who or what did really make me sad
Will I fall again to the same trap, I asked
Then I saw a pussy cat crossing a busy road
Beautiful creature, blue eyes and a fine fur coat
It was coming towards me, I was very pleased
And I waited on the side, till it crossed the road
Alas, a car hit ‘my cat’ and killed it on the spot
I felt unbearable grief, splitting my heart
I cursed the driver and cursed myself too
Not being able to save ‘my cat’ my sadness grew
Neither the cat nor the pink rose really were mine
Moment I saw them I made them mine, forgot the nature’s rule
Losing them brought sadness, yet faults were not of the cat or rose
Many flowers wither in the wilderness and other’s cats do die,
I am not sad for any of those probably because they are not mine
I am beginning to see some light in this conundrum
Realised the creator of sadness, not external sensual objects
Nor the sense organs but my desire to acquire and clinging
So the wanting to make them ‘mine’ the root cause of sorrow
Of everything I see, hear, smell,
taste or feel as my own!
Next challenge, I have to conquer,
The reason to place ‘ME’ in the centre
Of everything my senses could muster
My parents, my children, my wife
My country, my house, my diploma
My job, my staff, my office, my dogma
Funny thing is that even the foes and adversaries
Are all ‘mine, so will be my death and my illnesses!