Once upon a time there was a beautiful flower in a field filled with a kaleidoscope of other lovely flowers. It was young, fresh out of the bud, still too shy to completely open up though, and a little faint in hue, but beautiful still.
One day, a young lad was walking through the field, as he often did when he had nothing better to do, wanted to unload his mind or simply wanted to admire the beauty of a flower or two and maybe even pick one to brighten his day. Gallavanting hither & thither marvelling at a couple of pretty-petaled numbers, the beautiful little flower caught his eye. It drew him and he went closer to it. And he smiled at the sight of it. It was something special and precious but he could tell it wasnt as delicate as it looked-It didnt even need thorns to protect it. He smiled again and set off on his way his mood elated but after a few steps he turned on his heels and ran straight back to the flower. He had to have it! So he swiftly and carefuly uprooted it and took it home to his garden. He re-earthed where he knew he could easily spot it, not that it was hard to miss, and proceeded to water it and nurture it. The flower responded to him almost imediately. . . Blooming ever so beautifuly and brighter everyday. As if to show him that it was perfecting itself for the day he would pick her and vase her as his grand center-piece. And he was taken by it.But he never did pick her.
She remained in the garden still blooming and opening up and colouring deeper and deeper. But alas, the lad still left the flower in the garden. And soon he stopped watering it as often. Only until he saw it dullen and droop or until he needed the elation it brought him did he remember to do so. The flower would peak again but still, he would not pick it. Soon the beautiful flower had been noticed by others but as it was in the lad’s garden it could only be seen but not touched. Not picked. So then the now fully blossomed flower started to slowly fade away.
At first the lad thought that the change in colour was due to lack of nurture and tried to water it but that did not help. He did everything he could to get it back to its prime but It was too late. Then its petals started weakening and falling off one after the other. And then it dried up and died. The flower, the beautiful flower, was gone! And the lad was sad. If only he had picked it and vased it and really enjoyed it for what it was meant for. . . But he had been afraid that had he done that it wouldnt have lasted long. That it would have just withered away and he didnt want that to happen. “I didn’t want to spoil a good thing” he had told himself. But what he failed to realise was that it wasn’t going to last forever anyway, that it would eventually be gone. That he should have just fulfilled its purpose and enjoyed it for what it was; a beautiful flower. But he didnt. And now it was gone, unfulfilled. . .