By Sheikh Shabir Kulgami
The innocent flower
Dancing in glee in the gutter;
Chuckling in clusters are the thorns like stars
Merrily, merrily they do meet
A sight to laugh at in a saintly pose
Alone, lovelorn thee sans the dew,
O, for a velvet bed the flower does sob!
A sea of venom rings it rough
Into the flower, the thorns do jab,
Though it bite never a palm,
Yet they bite it sans balm
Never the flower perishes; yet stays calm,
Ever it weathers the onslaught,
That they gift it after drinking the wealth
That it yields for them to feast upon.
By Sheikh Shabir Kulgami
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