Strings and thorns

A kite, colorful, was was soaring skies blue

swaying attune to the melody of the wind free.

It climbed the untouched mountains tall and wise,

gliding without a halt in a fantastic spree.

 

Then it saw a rose, fresh and innocent

amongst the crowd of rocks monotonous;

looking at skies with eyes of wondrous intent,

unlike boulders with glassy eyes-staring at below valleys.

 

Kite stopped in its sojourn to descend next to glutch,

“O Dear! come with me to eternal joy,

where none will hurt nor will tarnish by touch

not a sigh of despair will escape your lips nor you cry.”

 

Rose smiled and accepted the kite’s hand.

Alas! the thorns stuck out kite’s heart hard.

The blood red flower ordered kite to leave her thorns alone

for they are the setting which she was completly attune.

 

Kite, rebuked and tattered, looked at disbelief,

“Son, now you understand why I never care

of the beauty in this world of sham and shame,

keep distance with no thirst for other’s self.”

 

Kite nodded in understanding at sun’s wisdom

looked at rose that no longer innocent nor pure,

took its flight into the blue and white kingdom

leaving behind the land of roses, thorns and malice.

 

P.S

“I will go, bring  the lotus up here,

once cuts are sewn by care and time.”,

whispered kite to the stars and gleaming crescent,

which beamed at kite and saints-adamant and innocent.

 

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