Flower by the Road

I was walking on a road that day,
As far as the eye could see there was flatness,
Trees were hard to spot, here and there stood one alone,
Not green anymore, blackened by the smoke of the cars that passed.

I was troubled and sad, with the road mirroring my feeling
Singing songs of lament for missed opportunities,
Missed chances, and missed deadlines.
My voice, tinged with sorrow, flowed like water in the plains.

I heard a little cry, indistinguishable words,
A shrill voice, like that of a child in pain,
I stopped alarmed, looking around for the source,
Again the cry went up, chilling my blood cold, making it curl.

Again, I looked around but saw no one,
Third time the voice cried, the words making sense now.
"Look down, I'm here." The voice seemed to say.
So I did, only to see a small lily, that sprang in this forsaken place.

I knelt down beside it, looking in wonder,
At this talking flower, saying things,
The businessman wrestling with the human inside,
Should I take it home, or listen to its tale of woe?

Feeling won over the reason,
"What is little one?", asked I.
"Little water, O Traveler! Just some water."
I poured some water on it, the little withered flower.

"Sometimes I wish I was never born",
Said the little flower sadly, looking at me.
I stared blankly at the flower,
At a loss for words at this talking flower, full of remorse.

"Why would you say that?" said I.
" Nobody sees truly sees me,
Nobody stops and stares,
You do so, since I called you."

Ashamedly, I looked at the passing cars,
Full of people on their 'important' jobs,
Without caring for the beautiful things in the world,
Nor for the little flower by the road.

"My life is but short. And not for long shall I remain,
This beauty lasts only for a few days,
I would soon shrivel up and die,
And be nothing but a dead flower by the dead road.

This is how you make me feel
Singing songs of sorrow, and self pity,
Your uselessness in the world,
The lost meaning in your life. "

"S o I do, little one, for the world is cruel.
The world does not see me try,
The clock runs as fast it can, pays no heed,
To the needs of the people like me."

"Let me tell you something, Traveler.
I live for a little time, with my beauty of few days,
I also did curse Him above for giving me so little,
But He gave me a reason to live.

It's the light in your eyes that makes my day,
It's the open eyes of a child that looks in wonder,
At my beauty, useless as it is to me,
And runs away, refreshed for the day.

Live so, not for yourself,
But for others, to see you and be heartened,
Do things that make you happy,
Because it makes the one near you happy.

That's the way to a full life."
With this the flower gasped and died.
And I started again on my way,
A different man, taught by the dead flower by the dead road.