Analysis of The Enduring Cycle's Thorn : Lament of Downtrodden Blossoms Part II

Precious buds now downtrodden in senseless act—  
Human hands marring nature’s perfect course.  
Petals meant to open now fade without force—  
Frail beauty aborted lies crushed and cracked.
But vaster rhythms cannot be unpact—  
Roots intertwine below death’s scattered leavings,
Drawing close, shaping chaos into new weavings—
Kill the blossom, but not life’s sturdy acts.

Floras condemned as polluting the sight  
Are severed perfection from stems stretched to light.
Scattered and silenced before coming to height—
Only stray petals record once-promised plight.
Yet seasons hold course beyond mortal might,
Transforming wreckage into renewed life.
Kill the flower, but not the ceaseless strife  
To resurrect beauty from seeming blight.

They fall in drifts—crimsons, azure, gold—  
Slashed untimely before prime displayed.
Tomorrow's glory and hope decayed—  
Only skeletal limbs left, beauties untold.  
But vaster rhythms than humans can hold  
Drive nature’s cycles on heedless course.  
Kill the blossoms, but not the force  
That turns death's pall to feed life’s manifold.

Bright buds plucked perfection from stems stretching high  
Now turn back to earth, forsaken bereaved.  
Of sky’s warmth and light forever leave—  
Scattered remnants alone recall greatness nigh.  
Yet seasons hold course beyond hand’s harsh ply—  
Roots in fertile darkness draw near, entwine,
Sprouting fresh from death’s mean confine,  
Kill the flower, but not cycles that onward ply.

Delicate florets crushed before dawn’s first glow  
Lie broken in cold spill of morning dew—  
Bereft of sun’s glory, only to rue  
Bright hues never gracing the winds that blow.
But death cannot stall what time’s currents sow—  
Seeds below sprouting already beyond  
The pall of darkness, heedless human bond—  
Kill the bud, but not what thereby shall grow.

Stripped prematurely from branches reaching sky,  
Perfect buds now turn back to indifferent earth.   
Robbed of light and warmth, bereaved of all worth—  
Left forsaken 'neath trees stretching barren and high.  
Yet seasons hold course beyond reason’s why—  
Roots unite deep, drawing life from death’s pall,  
Kill the flowers, yet endless rhythms enthrall—  
Renewing beauty, heedless of human cry.

In piles of jagged fragments, forlorn—  
Hues muted, torn corollas downtrodden.  
Glory and beauty prematurely trodden—  
Left ravaged and ruined—such the human scorn.
Yet seasons revolve, death but rebirth sworn.  
Time grinds fine even acts that kill the breath—  
Transforming tragedy to renewing bequest.   
Break the blossom, but not the cycle’s thorn.

Severed perfect from stems still innocent
Lie the wasted young blooms, forsaken in piles—  
Tomorrow’s unfurled hopes and dreams in denial—  
Left dead on indifferent earth, potential unspent.  
But vaster patterns than human hands dent  
Continue weaving all acts within.  
Kill the blossoms, but not the silent spin  
Of time’s loom—circling seasons without relent.

In great mounds they lie, colors faded and muted—  
Crimsons and gold spilled upon careless ground.  
Beauty and life prematurely unwound—  
Tomorrow's promise already destitute.  
But rootlets stretched in earth's darkness refute  
Human acts that kill yet cannot destroy  
The enduring cycles that time deploy  
Below awareness—there life resolute.

Buds perfect as prayers, yet to breathe sweet air  
Now lie forsaken, downtrodden and mute.  
Of sun's fair sky forever destitute—  
Left ruined, only disappearing to spare.  
But seasons hold course beyond human affair,  
Roots in fertile darkness unfurl from furled seeds,  
Publish unseen the unwritten deeds—  
Kill the blossom, but not the fruit so fair.

Precious florets savaged on faultless stems
Turn back unopened to feed the cold earth—  
Of sun and sky now dispossessed of all worth,  
Only fading colors left to recall their brief hems.  
Yet roots in soil draw close, reshaping life from death’s gems—  
Kiln fired by callous acts that cannot destroy  
The vaster patterns—always deploying  
Death to life—there is the diadem.

In great drifts the ruined buds do lie—  
Mangled beauty spilling cross a cold dawn.  
Glory and promise both now gone,  
Fading hues and torn petals alone testify  
To splendor lost ‘neath indifferent sky.  
But seasons hold course beyond reason’s gauge—  
Roots unite deep to turn sorrow’s carnage  
To feed life again—time’s alchemy aye.

Buds plucked perfect from innocent stems  
Now turn hungry back to earth, unrestful, unripe—  
Of sun and soil forever deprived,  
Only fading petals left to weigh human hems.  
But vaster rhythms cannot be stopped by men’s.  
Roots in fertile darkness draw purpose from pain  
And shape chaos back into fruitful skein—  
Death but the loom on which life endless gems.

Delicate florets severed young from the branch  
Lie broken in cold indifference of day—  
Bereft of sun's warmth, only to decay,  
Beauty aborted before ever launched.  
Yet seasons hold course beyond reason's staunched  
Flow—roots in darkness unfurl as when  
Before, publishing life once again  
Though buds be slashed—time's love still unchanged.

In great windrows piled the blossoms slain,  
Hues faded, torn petals downtrodden.  
The laughter and beauty prematurely deadened—  
Left ruined by civilization's disdain.  
Yet seasons revolve heedless of reason's reign—  
Roots unite below human ignorance above,  
Slowly turning destruction to renewing love,  
Chaos reshaped to fruitful order again.

Buds perfect as pearls, yet to gleam in day's light  
Lie darkened, besmirched by humanity's blight.  
Scattered and silenced before coming to height—  
Only torn remnants left of once promised sight.  
Yet seasons hold course beyond mortal might,  
Roots unite deep, transforming acts that kill  
The flower into substance that nourishes still—  
Death but the darkness before dawn's new light.

Severed unripe from stems innocent still  
The buds now turn back unfulfilled to earth.  
Beauty and promise come to untimely dearth—  
Only fading colors left as testament to human ill.  
But vaster rhythms cannot cease time's will  
To resurrect life continuously from pain—  
Roots unite below indifferent disdain,  
Turning darkness to light—therein lies the skill.

Bright blooms debased ere ever unveiled unveiled  
To sky's warmth now lie broken, forsaken.  
Bereft of light and life, only to awaken  
The cold earth—such bitter harvest we have trailed.  
Yet seasons hold course beyond where we have failed  
To grasp time's patterns—death but rebirth still.  
Break the blossoms, but not the deeper will  
That binds end to beginning in weft unassailed.  

In great cascades the severed blooms do spill—  
Scarlet and azure and verdant flare  
Left faded and muddied where once most fair—  
Beauty aborted by humanity's blind will.  
Yet seasons revolve past reason's systems still—  
Roots unite below human ignorance above,  
Silently weaving chaos into form of love,  
Ever turning darkness to new life fulfill.

Perfect buds now downtrodden, bereft of day's sky  
Lie broken in cold, bitter indifference.  
Of sunlight and warmth dispossessed, driven hence—  
Scattered remnants alone to ask humanity why.  
Yet time flows on past our brutality's cry—  
Roots unite deep, transforming acts that kill  
Into substance to nourish life ongoing, fulfill  
The seasons' replenishment—time's endless ply.

Severed young from their stems' loving embrace  
The buds turn back, starved, to feed the cold earth.  
Bereft of sun and life—love come to dearth—  
Only fading petals left, humanity's disgrace.  
But vaster rhythms than humans can deface  
Turn destruction to love—chaos to form.  
Kill the blossoms but not the ceaseless swarm  
That composts death to new life—time's sure pace.

In great piles strewn, the blossoms of youth  
Lie faded and torn where laughter once played.  
Severed too soon, all shine and glory decayed—  
Only remnants left of love and beauty's truth.  
Yet seasons hold course beyond mortal sleuth—  
Roots unite deep, transforming tragedy  
Into sustenance for life's frail seedling tree—  
Kill the flowers, but not time's renewing ruth.

Delicate florets plucked from vine before ripe  
Now turn back perfect to feed the cold earth.  
Bereft of sun and life—hope come to dearth—  
Only forsaken petals left of promise wiped.  
But vaster rhythms cannot be blocked or typed—  
Roots unite deep beyond humanity's ken  
To reshape chaos into order again—  
Kill the flower, but not the pattern encrypted.

The poem is part of a full version found in the book “Homo Sapiens” Part Part I - XVIII, written by Mawphniang Napoleon. This book is part of the popular “Homo Sapiens” book series, which can be purchased online at various online bookstores, such as Amazon. The book is available for purchase for those who are interested in reading the complete version of the poem. Remember to get all the books from the “Homo Sapiens” series, as well as other books by the same author.   So, don’t hesitate and get a copy today from one of the many online bookstores.   Khublei Shihajar Nguh,  (Dhanewad  )(Thank you )