when petals are scattered
we dont regret, but rejoice
new buds will sprout
out of their decay,
who knows, who will feel, dare I say!
heart does not age,
like a letter we wrote the other day
in an envelop which is a bit torn
but did the feeling not presage?
let us ring the bell
the temple seems ready to ignite
yearnings for creative urges
shall we just remain silent and not tell?