Through thicket and dust,
Hidden from the morning's view.
You sleep underneath the dead leaf's dew.
And wake not for an year or forever,
But you would have to- if the free wind blew.
And then you'll fly like a flower,
And flower you were in yonder days,
Those days are past, now you'll lay crumpled
Until the day when the storms hold sway.
With all the might that held you to ground,
Now blown away in the July monsoon.
Laugh you can't but fly with the air,
For the color in your arms have not yet drained,
You had kept it all to yourself when it rained.
-Mohan
