Magnolia white clouds amidst a sky of azure blue. The field below is green and continuous, as far as the eye can see. The green and blue merges ever so seemingly at the horizon, so simply, yet at the same time with such complexity. A wonderful scene, almost perfect. Then one spots a lonely flower, a delightful shade of passion red, rendering the beauty of the rest of nature but superficial, for one now has only eyes for that stalk of intriguing loveliness.

It is just human, purely innocently human, to want to posess what is beautiful, what is lovely. And so one now wants that flower, to keep and to secure, to call it his or hers. And so one bends over, stretching out ones hand, with the thought of plucking that flower, to appreciate and admire every day, to have and to hold.

True enough, a flower may do better off after being plucked. If the right care and concern is showed, the flower may last longer, bloom even more beautifully, and bring more delight to the world. Yet, if one does not have the capability of doing do, the flower may whither sooner than it should have, and the beauty is lost.

One decides not to pluck the flower. Not yet. It is not the right time. And so one waits, preparing for the day where one is ready to pluck that flower. And time goes on.

Some time later, one finds himself back at the field. The red flower is still there, ever so beautiful. But one finds oneself as unprepared as back at the time when one first set ones eyes upon this marvel. Yet, opportunties do not come one too many times. The flower may whither tomorrow. A big storm may come and uproot the flower. Or just another passerby may have plucked it away.

If one plucks the flower, the flower may be everlasting or it could die sooner, but if one does not pluck the flower, the fate of the flower will be undecided, perhaps the flower could last for another day, perhaps not, and be gone for good.

Let fate take its path, or take fate into ones hands?