The Briefest Bloom Poem by Jayita Bhattacharjee

The briefest bloom, of a lifetime of memories,
Unfurled the petals, spilling a scent of eternity,
And the sadness melts, for memories rush
As flowers in spring.

Knowing when the time came,
The bud that once blossomed,
Left its fragrance in the breeze,
Through the floating scent, a legend lives
To speak of a life, once fresh and green.

Winds may scatter the tributes in frost,
But the briefest bloom still lives so rich,
From time to the breath of eternity.
The flower that opened ages ago,
has gone to sleep when wild winds have blown.
Yet, the sun comes for it, breaking through the clouds,
To scatter the scent, as a song escapes the lips,
To sing of a life that was in the briefest bloom.

The bud that opened for life,
Shone in light, every dawning day,
Unfurling in wonders, in the dew of heaven.
To weave a legend that smells of eternity.

Its life, though was a landscape of agony,
As a bud struggled to open in bloom,
Its life, a mix of light and rain,
On earth, it strewed its rich scent.
Now it is the angel of dawn.
At times, a hidden sun, trying to peek in,
as I roam, in the fog of grief.
At times, a starflower in the night sky.

The light of a living legend.
The briefest bloom with a scent of eternity.
Sometimes, it wakes as a morning glory,
In the rising dawn of gold.
The fearless bud that flourished in light,
Left its fragrant days, with love in the breeze.
A few years on this earth,
brought lyrics to a song called Life.

He is the falling light on the bed of flowers,
and when day curls into night,
he is the silver star, twinkling in the quiet of night.
A light he left, in the starless nights,
A scent he left in this scentless world.
The briefest bloom, though gone to sleep,
Its scent in the winds has broken the grief.

The bud that opened as the briefest bloom,
Left behind a sea of scent.
Left behind is eternal molten gold,
to awaken dawn in this grieving heart.

And lo! My heart unfurls in delight!
My eyes carry the words that tell of yesterday's bloom,
And I who went frigid, now melt in music,
as my lips part, wide and wild.

The dancing soul over meadows and hills,
To tell of a bloom, plucked by God, for he needed it so.
To be the eyes of light in the dark night,
To be a wave, breaking on the shores
and write a poem on the sands.
To be a branch bearing the blossoms
and carry the memories of the briefest bloom.,

Yesterday's essence, still lingering behind
A blossom I search in the lanes of the past,
to find the flowerness in all that is dead,
to sense the joy once again.

Floating in the breeze, in the scent of eternity,
Its story, I write on every rock,
On every leaf, and every bark,
To etch the poem of a flower gone to sleep.


...'I Sense My Thirst'..Excerpt
Jayita Bhattacharjee