There is a God. Wilted plants soon wither and die. Where do they go after they disappear from view? Do they come back as another "thing" or they have seen their best?The afterlife overlooks the perishable fruit. And the love that was nurtured could only last very long. But who's counting days, months? You are here, and I wish you talk to me with words that are comforting to a mortal just like me. I never wondered why one clings to the raft of life when there isn't even a light that shines. Blinded. Only tactile stimulation could bring back the you in you. Would you let me in and savor the ravishing life that a floral eclipse could bring? Stay, please.
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