I am only a bug, as you are the garden. I don't spread joy wherever I go or to whoever I pass by. I don't grow into a beautiful sculpture of hard work to create such an amazing thing. I follow those who do or I adventure out to those who already did and show their lovely creations to the world. Whether it be a lonely pot of soil with only one sunflower, or the greater work of art: the garden. The hidden garden in a backyard who is self-conscious of their looks, not really putting their work out there as they're scared of the public. Or the garden showed to everyone, right in the middle square as they're proud of what they accomplished and don't mind a bit of criticism.
I never stay anywhere, I'm on the run. On the journey to find that one special group of plants. One's where they give some of their leaves to the hungry, or their pollen to those who will share them even farther than they ever could. Everyone appreciates what they do for their community, but others do not. Some take it for granted, the not so hungry hoard it and keep it to themselves, locked away from the others. The ones who act as if they're spreading more good in the world only spread it so far, as their tiny wings can only hold so much. They overwork themselves, desperate for attention as they push past their limit to impress their queen- or any higher up on the scale.
But the rain always comes. And yet the garden never fails to thrive through it. They take that rain as an opportunity to grow, to spread just a bit farther so more are able to engulf in its need for survival. The garden that never reveals how much they work themselves, always seeming carefree and never putting in the effort can now show how strong they have to be in order to survive the flood that would normally wash over them. They've become stronger from the help of the bugs, now they can survive the harshest rains as long as they have the support from their friends.
You are that garden. You show everyone what you're really made of. You make sure they know everything you do in order to keep your brave face to the public. And me? I'm nothing special. I'm the bug. I take a bit too much and return far too little. Yes it's unfair how one does all the work just for someone else to take it for their own. Because it's no longer than just the friendly people who walk by and admire your beauty, it's now society. And society is so much worse... and I expect you to still get through those harsh winds and buckets of rain, because you're stronger than all of us.
You keep us going. And give us a purpose.
Never stop planting your roots.
(Guess who's POV this is)
