The lonely flowers

Thirty years of existence and I'm still figuring out, where does the light come from? All I know, with every passing and leaving of the light, I'm born as a new flower.

I believe I was born a red poppy, born in the wild, soft and temporarily there. The reason why that period was short, is that life showed it's true colors. I lost the sense of childhood very soon, springs very soon turned into dark and dusty autumns. They say that's when cloves are born, I guess my calmness, yet the smell of my anger, running from my unexpressive face, was slapping the faces of everyone passing by. As time went by, I wanted to be born stronger, to let my roots dive deep in my ground. So I was re-born in a hot summer day, as a firm sunflower. For years and years, I remained a sunflower. Loving, caring, protecting and accepting the heat of the sun, so all the flowers and plants around me can bloom in my shadows. Thousands of bees flied around me, fed from my soul and left without a heartfelt goodbye. My heart beating for everyone, broke a hundred times. The head of the sunflower is now down to earth, it no longer rises up happily towards the sun. It no longer makes a shadow, no brightness, I don't think the light comes up anymore.

Today, I no longer know what I am. Nothing is happening anymore, no adventures, no excitement, no love, no hate. Everything is very still and fixated. There’s no hopelessness or hopefulness that can fill in this void of nothingness. Many say you’re lucky, nothing happening is better than disasters happening. Though this could be true, but is this considered living at all ? In every little corner, I look for little things that can give me a feeling. Even if sadness, I take it as a gift. I know this state is not forever, I know I’m going to bloom again. However this time, I’m sad that it will be a different flower. One I don’t know, but she will know me very well. I always miss the essence of all the bees that once landed on my leafs, I guess it’s the power of the weakness I’m feeling towards the memories that’s keeping me from healing faster and blooming sooner. I keep wishing for the dying bees to come fly towards me again, I forget that I’ve already cried the three days of their funerals. I forget that my garden of memories has already burried their bodies deep down. I can’t keep wishing for the dead to come back…

What am I gonna be born again as ? Which flower is gonna grow in this land ? Will the land ever grow another flower again ? If yes, will it be a sunflower or a brand new flower with a new life?