Sorry for taking too long to post a new work.
I have been busy in making submissions and planning a series.
I will be posting the series here, once I start writing it.
As for this story, I had sent this for submission and it was rejected.
Is that a wrong thing to say? I don't know.
Hope you like and understand the work.
Thank you for your support.
And please voice your comments
(They mean more than you'd think they do)
And please voice your comments
(They mean more than you'd think they do)
Did I mention that the blog has now got over 1500 hit.
A special thanks for that one too.
Sun shone kindly upon the greenery, enabling them to have their fill for the day. Exotic flowers in the garden of the world filled the minds of the onlookers with effervescence. Glory of nature did not restrict itself to one specie alone. The fragrance of the flowers in full bloom reached the receptors of superior beings too. It was not long till those butterflies reached the place, illuminating the place with their bright colours.
One young insect rested on a leaf, with its tired wings closed at the back. Admiring the delicacy and the winsomeness of nature’s piece of art, it lost track of its work at the place. It was lost for good. The rose petal lips, with green sepal as curving hips of the gorgeous lass and those two protruding stamen, indicating that it was mature, made the butterfly freeze in awe.
The admiration took the being into reminiscence of the past beauties it had met. One led to another and so on till it reached the present. The reality of the present and the importance of its duty struck. It eyed the flower once more. The virginal beauty was something it could admire only in the ignorance of the lustful hunger and the monotonous duty it had to follow.
A beauty so ravishing, it had to be preserved as such. Conserved. For the world to cherish it and savour that moment of adoration. An exquisiteness to be immortalised. The butterfly, that was lost in that moment of veneration yearned for that alone.
Nonetheless it comprehended what had to be done. The moment it enters the bloom, it makes contact, it penetrates the open door, the pure countenance and the manifestation would get sullied. The flower of that moment would cease to exist. It would be gone. The semblance of the art change. The perfection debased.
It sat there looking at others entering various flowers and tarnishing them. The elegance in the flower before it, was gone in those flowers. It too was supposed to enter the flower. It had to or another one would. Yet it sat still making no move towards the flower.
That was the order of nature. To create and then to destroy. But the destruction was not absolute. It paved way for more creation. It was a transformation more than destruction. And that transformation bore, in its own way, a beauty and a perfection the insect could not comprehend. Whether others loved the new expression, it knew not. It didn’t even fathom that others never noticed any beauty at any point amid their hurried lives. But it loathed that metamorphosis. The flower would at first lose its freshness. It would be fertilised. Later it would turn into large and succulent balls that would then be devoured by another being, which would not have known of this virginal beauty. Traversing into eternity, the winsomeness would go unrecalled.
Nevertheless that was how it was. It was only natural for the transmutation. There was a part for it to play in the larger picture. And that transformation was mature’s order. It would not pause, for anyone or anything for such pause would lead to the natural extinction of the beauty. All that should be done is savour the artistry at that moment and appreciate it. Therein lies the joy. Withal, every being seeks only joy in their joy forsaken life.
After one last look, devouring the refinement of the flower, the butterfly flapped its wings and went into the flower to gather nectar.
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