Growing flowers

She: I started to get really happy. It was like the flowers I had planted were slowly budding forth in bloom, and I could see each hue of their soon-to-emerge petals like a brilliant sunset. It was as though my life were rushing towards that sunset, longing to drown in that whirlpool of colour and bliss. But I didn’t realize that as my happiness grew, I started to get careless. I started to think nothing could stop me now. I started to think my happiness was a right, not a privilege. I’m not sure what the answer to that one is, but I know that both rights and privileges can be taken away. Look at the governments of countries, courts of justice, men and women and families and communities in society. I thought I was my own little island. I didn’t want to relinquish my autonomy. But here I am, already a colony of a conqueror who changes the courses of my rivers, makes them flow or stop as he pleases. Salt, brine, bile, urine, crops, all sown and reaped as he pleases. Rainbows, rain and sunshine, all at his command. But nature has her own whims too. Who knows how she’ll react. Will she submit to the arbitrary changes as she has had for centuries, or is this island too wild to be tamed? Will it become haunted with the ghosts of Victoria or will it flourish like a commonwealth of dreams? Is the wildness in nature or in man? Can there ever be a separation?
But coming back to what I was saying: oh yes, the flowers are wilting. I shall have to mulch them again. I guess love is working on beauty till it shows results. You have to be patient.