Soliloquy

   Ask the flower just before it has bloomed,
Ask her how she bore the pain underneath
The entire facade that she’s been carrying forever,
Before turning into this enchantress who manifests.

Ask the butterfly just before it has metamorphosed,
Into love, away from all the world’s abhorrence,
Ask her how her touch made the fire tremble,
And ask her if she, for a minute, even reminisces about that.

And ask the fire, ask him quietly
Does he remember the butterfly that touched him
Or the flower that sent her love from afar,
Did they turn into gold or were simply reduced to ashes?