Blooming like a rose,
Isn't even an option for most of us.
We bloom like the wildflower,
Neglected and ignored even when we blossom.
We dissappear likewise too,
Once our part is over, we wither away
Unnoticed, unsung, unadorned and unadored.
But we bloom fiercely in our own way,
Fight our way through and brave the dangers.
We aren't tamed showpieces,
We're the untamed, unbounded wilderness.
YOU ARE READING
MUSINGS OF A SOLIVAGANT
PoetryJust like her solivagant mind wanders and the soft vernalagnia colors her cheeks, rosy - poetry swells from her inside. What her camera captures, spins words of hope and despair in her. Where the heart bleeds on to the paper, there springs poetry...
