I ploughed the land
Opened the furrow
Seeds were happy
Though exposed to sun
They sprouted
A flower was happy at the
Comfort of pulverised soil
But then I stopped ploughing
And flower became unhappy
Searched for other Gardeners
Who ploughed that land
But none could make the flower ever happy again
Complaints became louder
Why did not I plough again
How do I answer
It was not that
Soft soil would not be nice to
Sow new seeds
But there were too many weeds
Allowed to grow
By the winds and the light
I could not remove them all
I could not plough again
But the flower is in protest still
And my plough has rusted
Is that the source of entire agony?
