That day I walked alone
trapped in a drowsy fold of time, a captive carved from bone
Hesitant, waiting, begging days for a keeper I could own
a treasure for my chest, a blade to guard my throne
I asked the hours for shelter and a flower from a
thousand gardens
Then for more: a joy that splits stone — no pardons
One who gives relief, who never asks for patience
my soul rebels, my self refuses all engagements
the ghost my longing has worn to a tomb
No other face. No substitute. Not even a borrowed plume
I will not board the wrong train, not pay in gloom
I will not trade my dream — no matter how the sorrows bloom
Then — as if fate leaned in and heard my plea
As if the days themselves were on my side, and so was the sea
As if the night was whispering a secret, setting me free
And the dawn laughed — and poured joy down my throat, and I could see
She is there. Yes. She is there
Crimson, purple, jasmine-white, a queen beyond compare
A nymph among the flowers, burning bright and rare
A lover of light — love's eternal heir
A kiss for every wanderer — joyful, beyond despair
I asked her — as her waves swept my dream-ship toward
the snare
She passed this way. Didn't she?" And the universe became aware
She smiled with her longing and said: "O you who tear
?how would you know the language of flowers, you who swear
So I answered with words that held a hidden scent
I breathed you into them. My breath became your tent
She swayed once, then whispered: He has touched my firmament.
Are you flirting with me? I am the jasmine — and I am spent
I saw her in you. And through you, my
eyes found rest
The sky wept at her softness when she confessed
She came here many times. She passed. She blessed
every flower with gladness — every blossom she possessed
One day she drew near, smiled, drank my nectar, and
then asked
'Has he passed this way?' And her voice unmasked
'Who will water my jasmine?' — and the silence tasked
her to add: 'Who drinks from his soul and lets me drink? At last
she has found him. The one without a double, without a
past
And with that, her story closed." And the shadow cast
She left
Yes. She left
She left
But she left a letter — every letter a sign, a debt, a
tether
She spoke it short; she spoke it clean, all bound together
I will come back. I will come back for sure
when I find someone who knows the language of flowers, pure
I will come back — for the one who keeps their word, secure
For the one who is my long joy, steady and demure
For the one who gives me safety without end, without a cure
And for the one with whom the eternal vow will endure
The
language of flowers
