Do you not say

I’m omnipotent,

Omnipresent?

I created you,

Your family

And the nature

Around you.

Would I not be able to

Smell and see the flowers

That surround you?

Why pick them up in lots,

Pluck them off their

Lives, sew them with

Needles, and gift them

As garlands to an image

Of me: your temple deity.

What joy I get, tell me?

If I see my creations

Being ravaged by man’s

Ruthless hands. Like you,

They would love to live

A carefree life of freedom

And sunshine.

Why smother them

Prematurely, wither them

With your plucking fingers?

Don’t crush them to offer me

Pushpanjali.

Let them breathe in the

Breeze of the garden

Where they belong…

Let the bees savour their nectar.

Do not give me bouquets

Of dying flowers…

I’m just as happy

To see them

Blossom :)

In the branches of

The swinging trees.

Why make them bare and barren?

They look so naked without their

Adornments – the beautiful flowers

That drape them in beauty…

Listen to me, my dear devotee.

You happen to see me everywhere,

Don’t you?

You talk of my omnipresence,

So why don’t you see

That I don’t need

Flowers from thee

To please me.

They are there for nature to show us

How flowers look beautiful in their

Natural beauty…don’t pluck, please.

Won’t you heed me?