The Sunflower.

Everyday, the sunflower held up all night long to see it's sun, all peachy and bright..

Nothing in the world would make it so cheerful; gratified.

Swaying here and there in the misty breeze..

It upheld it's stalk, nice and straight for the day it was going to seize.

If the sun was to behold it's presence for a jiff,

The sunflower would just crumble down into the earth, never knowing that it's life was truly a gift.

Then, there came a day,

The sun never rose,

It's essence of existence completely froze.

That day, the flower sobbed.

Those wide hopeful eyes, turned down, the eccentric smile, frowned.

This was the end of it's life, it believed. 

Days passed by, hope was getting hollow. 

It waited, 

it waited for the winds to subside, for the rain to succumb, for the darkness to disappear somewhere in the shallow.

It never realized that the sun was simply a masked mediator between it's contentment, it's joy and It's substance of being.

It wondered how did it leave that completely unseen.

.. But when it did, when it did realize that it is it's only savior, 

It's own comforting touch from the wind, it's own fragrance that the rain just magnified, it's own color to the dark tint less cosmos, it shined. 

It shined in ways that the sun's shine could never touch it in it's glory, 

in ways where the abundant sun's shine would feel bland even to the parched.

In ways where the flower's bliss would roar from the tiniest of its parts,

And say..

I'm my own Sun and I'm all the sunshine, I'll ever need.


- Shipra