I have a rendezvous with a dandelion
in an enchanted garden of life.
It had me smitten by the sparkling stars in its fuzz,
the faded colours echoing with a solitary buzz.

Exquisite in shape, vibrant in face,
yet restless at heart and frenzied to the core
fraught with excruciating pain,
drained of all vigour, yet it doesn’t complain.

Too fragile to withstand the blows of violent wind,
too strong to long for the end,
though yearning always goes in vain.

Too elegant not to shine
through the callous night, with might and grace,
for shining subdues the bleakness.

Too cosmic not to long for stars,
too exuberant not to dance on the strings of a guitar
a dance before falling apart,
swept by the soft, suave breeze of hope.

The dance with emptiness,
before plunging into forlornness.
The dance with eternity,
holding the hand of delusional secrecy.