Intent

A stem is in love with its buds
So much that it consumes the mud
Just to feed the baby buds

It holds them on the top of itself
So much that it weathers the floods
Just to protect the baby buds

It transforms its own body
So much that the pain of bearing
Gives itself the thorny pricks

The bud so beautiful and fragrant
It’s the desire of its mother stem
To have it blossom into a wonderful flower

Every petal when expands away from the core
The bud is smiling and twinkling
Making the world around it prettier and fulfilling

Bearing and helping the bud become a flower
Spreading the joy and beauty all over
Is an offering of the stem
Quietly, without seeking any acclaim

It’s a work that only of a saint
May be thorny but no feint
To spread the joy and fragrance… that’s the only intent

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