An unknown malice

With a rather heavy emotional disposition I narrate this little incident. It’s not little though, given the enormity of its ‘thought’ weight. I can call it a short narration. The weight of this tender flower was too much of a burden for me to carry on my supposedly strong shoulders. I felt that I would be crushed by the very thought of lifting it. This poor thing had been trying to stay up, all through the season, raising its proud head against the mighty winds and the hammering rain drops. Yet it continued to fight its way through and be there up and about, unwilling to give up. Rocking and shaking violently with every gust of rain laden chilly wind, to be back in position at the next opportunity. I watched this through my window the whole evening and then the night fell. The rain and the winds continued their assault as I closeted inside the comfort of my room, retired with a prayer "God thank you for this wonderful day, and every evening I shall say, there's some thing happy on the way". As the morning sun shone on the frosty glass pane of my window, I looked down to see that tiny single flower, beaming radiant, like the winner of a Boxing match. Out of plain stupidity (I will not call it curiosity), I got up, took my camera and went down to take a shot. The little flower would not pose for me. In my rash and imprudent (afterthought) desire to prove my photographic talent, I tried to adjust its pose, the flower could not bear. The one who had weathered a storm the previous evening, could not withstand the touch of a human finger. There was probably no human in the finger. There was no malice in the previous night's storm; there was no benevolence in my touch. The demise of that flower on my touch still weighs heavy on my shoulders. What wonderful day did my prayers bring ? For whom ? I still wonder !!!