Rose

Rose

Lately, I see a change
In the way I behold
The world.
It’s not a question of age
It is more of the mind
That in competition
Of any kind
In any form or in any art
I do not take part.

Lately I’m of the opinion
I beg your pardon,
That healthy competition
Is an oxymoron,
Cut-throat is close
I am surprised, even morose
To see how a sensitive
Person like Rose, beyond trace
Initiate a war of words
To animate the space?

These naive competitions,
A stereotype gesture
Will not be of any use
It will inflate, corrupt the ego
Of those who judge
Instill bitterness and even
More lack of participation
Make it colder,
Less communicative
Than what it already is,
Will fill the air
If you please
With bad breath and unease.

We could fill the air
With comments that are kind
Help readers learn how to reflect
On the good and on the bright
Than to harp on the bad
Making the atmosphere far too
Grim and sad.

Competition is against nature
For in a garden there is none
Which claims supremacy over the other,
All are in their own space
Be it a lotus, a poppy, or a rose
Competition is an unnatural
Way of trying to feel warm and come close.

Lately, I see myself out of the rat race
Words that damage the spirit of a page
Are of little use, for they bleed in the ambit
Addicted by blind and deadly habits.

But lately, I have also become less stubborn, more accepting
So I wholeheartedly appreciate the gesture of Rose;
Always finding
Ways and means to encourage
Bards of the same feather
To meet for sometime and chatter,
Maybe the way she followed
Seems to me being in the cage,
But laudable is the heart that pumps inside,
To do something wonderful for this splendid site
Rather than sulk and criticise;
For heaven’s sake, in this golden garden
I no longer want to be a bad apple,
Not anymore
The participation could well make us bond, make us more strong
Beyond words, for once
Without condition
I would like to be proven wrong.

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