Voyages of My Mind

12. Thriving

Here we go again
each xiphoid word
you said
I had overgrown
as the fern plant would
in an abandoned rubble
of cement and stone.

As I both thrived and lamented
away from you,
at my own tears I sighed
and you never knew why.

You were the sun
so bright
I could not look up to,
a diety
whom I am forever
indebted to.

I was a seed
you cast
sunlight with
you decided that
plants grow best
under the sun.

You announce
that children are vines
that must climb trellises
to bear sun-kissed fruits.

But I hated climbing and following you;
a safe haven,
nothing to be thrilled at.
So I invested
in roots and shade
because deep down
in the unknown
one needs less foliage
where lights is rare.

I had learned that
darkness
is just the place
God forgot when he created light
and that opposites
are the same
in a mirror‘s reflection.
On our own,
we learn
our yin and yang
And no matter what we do,
we soar to the skies,
or we charge to the battle
or we mine our resources
but we will never forget
how we thrive
as the fern plant would
in an abandoned rubble of cement and stone.

Looking up now to you
I sighed
And I never really knew why.