The Flower, 'Gratitude'

To bring Her gratitude that would survive

The solar stillness, bear the burnt clay road

From Auroville to the room of the parent sun.

Might from my hands a force of strength abide

And fill thy buds and swiftly withered blooms

That in man's hands last not the faintest hour,

Revive, yet more, imbue my being's flame

And place thee in the lilies of Her hands,

My life there placed, my soul within thee cupped,

To make eternity thine by Her smile of love,

And all thy buds to swell, thy branches bow,

Thy blossoms quiver with the remembered touch

And all thy future bloom Her dream in time.

"Gratitude", a wayside shrub, Ipomoea carnea, is so hardy it can survive months without water and withstand the intense heat of the South Indian summer. It is untouched by cattle, and if cut to the ground regenerates rapidly, but its flowers are so fragile, thin and translucent, that they begin to wilt immediately on being plucked.