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“Beauty in Decay! . . I cannot rest easy in the rush of the hour, where voices echo sharp as machines, and the headlines knit a web of ash, steel, and sorrow. Last evening, in a restful orchard, I found an old tree split by storms. Its hollow cradling a single blossom, pale and trembling in the dusk. I left it untouched, its fragile defiance far brighter than the glow of any city's burning light.” — Monika Ajay Kaul
Beauty in Decay!
.
.
I cannot rest easy in the rush of the hour,
where voices echo sharp as machines,
and the headlines knit a web
of ash, steel, and sorrow.
Last evening, in a restful orchard,
I found an old tree split by storms.
Its hollow cradling a single blossom,
pale and trembling in the dusk.
I left it untouched,
its fragile defiance far brighter
than the glow of any city's burning light.