Birth Of A Sproutlet Poem by Ankur Shrivastava

A seed was thrown away,
By a dusty, hot, summer wind...
Orphaned.

It fell down,
And was never picked up...
It was neither flower nor fruit,
An ugly seed.
But it lay safe.

Layers of earth piled up,
Weighed by it's weight,
The little seed
Dreamt of the sun and the stars.

An overpowering wish,
To live again
Swelled in its shrinking, starved gut.

Where sun rays could never reach,
A blessed rain seeped in.
A little caring drop,
Propelled the adamant seed.

A tiny sproutlet,
The son of darkness,
The warrior of dust;
Broke the layers of massive crust...
Smiling it came up,
Delicate yet so strong.

Bang into the eyes of sun,
The sproutlet winks with joy.