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*Put yourself in place of the weeds; see and feel the world through them*
I feel like weeds in meadow
Growing under and over some things
Notice no one, where I am
To them, not important being
My flowers adorn no bosom
My leaves part of no concoction
My roots lay withered when pulled
My use? No one has any notion
Pull it out! don't want it...
Is all I ever hear
Pride and joy in hearts they feel
If my presence disappear
Deep in my heart, I feel
Must be a reason, I exist
That I grow, flower, spread wings
Lo ! my existence persists
Maybe one day when all is gone
Other ways are found mundane
And life needs, yet to be born
Will they look my way to bloom again!
Manjari
