May I be Your flowers

Rasa Ravi, 2021

May I be the flowers
You have chosen to delight Yourself with,
bringing You my blooming light,
on the day of my looming night,
the ray dyed by the blood of my soul.

May I be the flowers
You picked from Your garden
of those who deliberately live for You,
who liberate themselves from the self
for the sake of Your ultimate touch.

May I be the flowers
who grew with Your solicitude,
fondled by Your sunshine and mild rain,
awaiting the day of profound initiation,
founded on the fulfillment of my being.

May I be the flowers
dreaming about the culmination of life,
about the purpose I was born for,
all my skills’ and learnings’ summit,
when You approach me and cut me from my roots.

May I be the flowers
whose lone florets refuse pollinators
because they are destined for You alone,
whose toppling and dancing in the wind
look forward to the bliss when You come.

May I be the flowers
You put in the vase of life’s base,
who are trying to catch Your attention
by spreading the fragrance of devotion,
rejoicing in an elevated week’s span.

May I be the flowers
You embrace with Your heart by mere smelling,
drawing me inside You, to Your soilless garden,
where all groundless fears turn into rapture,
enclosing me with tears of burning love.

May I be the flowers
You look at when seeking solace
from the warships of those who adore only themselves
in rays of worship of those who are Your devotees,
who can smooth the wrinkles on Your worried face.

May I be Your flowers.

When the bound of my determination blossoms
and You bend forward to my astonished heart,
stretching forth Your hands towards my fort,
I am ready to be sacrificed, by love to be hurt,
illuminated in the sparks of Your cheerful eyes.