There is an empty house opposite ours.
Nobody has lived there for years now.
The only reason why it hasn't fallen to disrepair is because a relative of the owner comes and looks in once in a while
There are three trees there
One inside the house and two outside
The one inside is a red hibiscus
The two outside are parijata
Nobody looks after them
Nobody waters them
Except the rain
And nobody knows why
The three trees survive
Not only survive but flower
Not only flower, but flower
So generously
So unfailingly
That every morning, people come
And pluck the flowers
The hibiscus off from the tree
The parijata from the ground
Fallen like fragrant white-and-orange snow
All kinds of people.
Many people
Many, many people
All through the morning
They pluck
They peck
They snatch
(They say it is for the Gods...)
Till all the flowers are gone
Even the hibiscus buds
Till the next morning...
When once again
The trees are ready
With the flowers
For the people who come
Many, many people
The trees never ask why
Nobody cares for them
Nobody waters them
They just give
Without any questions asked
The people take
And every morning
The hibiscus
And the parijata
blooms
No questions asked.
Nobody has lived there for years now.
The only reason why it hasn't fallen to disrepair is because a relative of the owner comes and looks in once in a while
There are three trees there
One inside the house and two outside
The one inside is a red hibiscus
The two outside are parijata
Nobody looks after them
Nobody waters them
Except the rain
And nobody knows why
The three trees survive
Not only survive but flower
Not only flower, but flower
So generously
So unfailingly
That every morning, people come
And pluck the flowers
The hibiscus off from the tree
The parijata from the ground
Fallen like fragrant white-and-orange snow
All kinds of people.
Many people
Many, many people
All through the morning
They pluck
They peck
They snatch
(They say it is for the Gods...)
Till all the flowers are gone
Even the hibiscus buds
Till the next morning...
When once again
The trees are ready
With the flowers
For the people who come
Many, many people
The trees never ask why
Nobody cares for them
Nobody waters them
They just give
Without any questions asked
The people take
And every morning
The hibiscus
And the parijata
blooms
No questions asked.
Beautiful. The flowers bloom because they must.
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