Little expectations break

like giant glass walls

wounding a soft heart

made of rose petals 

the child bleeds 

and Devi’s furious eyes 

burn in anger

To go out and kill 

the demons, oh

she’d rather pacify 

her little child

the innocent one

who understands nothing

of aggression of ignorance

but only Love

Outside demons now

appear themselves like

little ignorant children

Living in thrones 

forgot about the 

rarest pink rose 

budding up in their garden

So the rose shall stand alone

amidst all the thrones

shedding not the tears 

of expectations

but dewdrops 

of fragrant compassion

So when 

The Lord shall come 

to my garden at dawn

the omniscient the omnipresent

walking gracefully

through the mud and thrones

Shall pick this little rose

and rest her onto his palms

The softest touch 

of the beyond 

an eternal sleep

the restful home

where she’ll go

where she came from

Where she belongs