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track¹⁴; my windflower :
Tossed aside like the reusable can
That she was perceived to be,
She drifted into the winds,
Wafting her elusive fragrance,
Never staying at a place too long.
Her greatest enemy was attachment,
And wisely so, as attachment does indeed bring forth misery.
However, we are not Buddha's to renounce society,
We lack that rebellious nature, the kind opposite to its violent stereotype.
And yet, she managed to keep herself detached.
Of all the ways a human soul could torture itself,
She had chosen the self-destructive one.
I wonder, why?
What, or to be precise, who had given her the notion that would turn her into one
That trusted few and was trusted by few?
Wind flower, my wind flower,
I steal words from my favorite song
Tell me what tortured you so?
How terrible could the words of a prepubescent child be?
So terrible that it reduces you to this mess
And no, not a scintillating one, but an ugly, deformed, pathetic one?
What blinded you with the scars you hold now
And pray, why does it prick you still?
My brave, sweet flower, don't wilt away so soon.
I am afraid I have grown much too attached to you.
Sow new seeds, but not like this,
For I'm afraid that you won't remember me.
And I can't let go of you, yet.
~maits²²⁹
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Embroidered Dreams ✓
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