It was on that day.
He was like a strange ailing man.
Standing at the top of a high mountain
Besieged by wild plants of all species.
He stood firm perceived from to every coast.
Probing for the most bracing flower to liberate
Him from dolour. Red, orange, pink, blue, green,
White, purple, yellow, peach, flowers of all
Configurations you can name them, were there.
But none he found enlivening to him.
He was standing on the top a mountain, searching!
He was like a dung beetle in motion without clusters of stars.
He was like a bag of bones, debilitating and losing sight.
Days and days came and passed, he searched like a hungry lion.
All his veins were drying up, only sui generis of floret
beyond bracing, could set loose all his agony and solitariness.
One moment again he laid his eyes on the coasts,
what his eyes discerned was a unique blossom
The floret gleamed like gold and diamond, but the glint was beyond.
That was when the bag of bones transfigured and set loose from solitary.
© Lufuno Nefox