Tickled awake by morning dew;
sluggish Arousal at first light.
Yawning in those warm rays thus,
Quivered the Mulberry with delight.
The Sun, having blushed a moment,
glowed anew: all bedazzling and bright.
How festive the easterly hues felt,
after that dreary bleak yester-night!
In this growing light she beheld ‘Her’.
A butterfly: quiescent betwixt moss.
The cruel, cold gusts of yester-eve,
rendering lifeless such lively gloss!
The departed, in her last efforts,
Had laid twin priceless pearls.
Grieving Berry bosomed both.
“Orphans you shall not be, my Girls! ”
When have people of one kind but,
Ever been benevolent to any other?
And so the wary Florae apprised,
“You shall never be their true mother! ”
“Who is a mother? ” Berry asked,
“She: the momentary pain who bears.
Or she, who feeds, loves, cares for.
Devoting herself for those she rears.
Snug she made her two daughters:
Shading them from sun; from dribble.
Hatched and crawled thus two larvae:
Green bosoms for them to nibble!
Oh! How her heart throbbed,
When she took them in her lap.
Singing; rocking silken cribs:
Lulling Angels to nap!
They Nurtured on choice leaves,
imbibing sap for many moons.
A day came thus, when after fill,
The sisters built two snug cocoons.
True test this transmutation was –
Not only for larvae but Berry as well.
For now matured, the dames asked,
“Mother, why did you not tell? ”
The dames longed for their kind,
And soon it came to parting ways.
Yielding mother grieved anew,
Yet sprouted a hope in passing days:
“Rejoin me, my daughters will.
Unrequited won’t go my bosom’s milk.
Bound were we not by umbilical cords,
Yet binds us closer the sacrosanct silk! ”.
Spring, trying to enliven her,
spread around the liveliest bloom.
But no bliss was potent enough,
to mitigate the Mother’s gloom.
Summer came and scolded her,
Rains came pouring, to palliate.
Yet neither temper nor assuage,
Could get her distress to abate.
Waited she and waited long:
Alone, withered, abject, outcast.
Hoping yet against all hopes,
“Requited my love would get, before last.”
On a bleak winter night then,
When all hopes had died out.
Behold the blessed countenances!
Her daughters were flying about!
“Mother! O Mother! We join anew!
How we longed for a last conflux.
To bask in your pure love afresh,
To imbibe again the motherly efflux!
“Destined we aren’t to live long,
Yet our love, as nestlings, shall thrive!
Adopt them as your own, Mother,
Let our Silken Bond rejuvenate; revive! ”
And so started an eternal bond:
Two species, by love, enlaced.
Thus bestowing this love in silk –
Rendering it soft, smooth, glazed!
Author: Shobhit Kaul
Shobhit Kaul is a talented young engineer and poet. An immensely creative writer, Shobhit has developed a very distinctive style through poetry with unique interpretations of life, art, philosophy and nature.
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