Out of dust Nature's magic gives him birth <br />The flower is no doubt the pride of Earth. <br /> <br />It can be called the gift of heaven <br />It blooms almost for days sevrn. <br /> <br />The virgin bud wrapps its pretty face <br />It seems to hide a matchless grace. <br /> <br />Slowly the shame's sense shatters <br />Petals take a yawn and scatter. <br /> <br />Youth wears the crown of honor <br />And he becomes a great donor. <br /> <br />He gives in charity sweet smell <br />The Air applauds well done, well! <br /> <br />The leaves serve him like public <br />And thorns guard his acts heroic. <br /> <br />Some days kingship siks at last <br />And the winds blow hard and fast. <br /> <br />Petals commit treachery and fall <br />No one comes for help at his call. <br /> <br />Misery becomes the hard fate <br />That is to fall without any late. <br /> <br />He feels for himself a deep hate <br />Blank seems once again life's slate. <br /> <br />Humbleness like dust comes again <br />From embracing her he can't refrain. <br /> <br />From dust to dust the cycle completes <br />This miracle the magicain often repeats.<br /><br />Prof Niamat Ali Murtazai<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/flower-s-life/
