I sow the seeds of my sweat, to let the garden sprout,
As I till, I make you breathe – air & water.

When I dig you, I find you hiding the wounds of past failures & the Success,
While your flowers continue to radiate the happiness.

As I explore the shards of history,
I notice the bloody battles that have been fought over you, for you.
Man has become his own enemy,
In his quest to win, has killed many, only to get back to your womb.
While you hold closely the treasure of 100 others,
On whose bare body the success has trampled, And Succeeded.


Here Inside you, for every noble person,
There lie 100 others, who are not worthy enough,
But it is your infinite unbounded love that has accepted everyone.

For ages people have fought for you,
Unknowing that you already belong to them,
What you need is not a master,
But a gardener who takes the best out of you,
Who knows your worth, who makes you worth.