Helpless

For some, whose words fail, but whose fragrance pervades, and whose eyes speak. Praying this divali for new blossoms in some lives.


Divali,
the victory
of good over evil.

Is victory,
a cloud ,
that can bring neither rain ,
nor shady solace
to a
once blossoming mind
burning in the
dopamine heat ?



And the flower,
now a stick,
wilting,
struggling,
but still trying
to stay upright,
looks wordlessly
at the
helpless
flowers around it.

Sometimes the thorns
and the evil,
are one's own.