PoetryArtworkFiction
“Vine”
The vine grows from dirt—from nothing,
And then its only wants in the world are sunshine and rain.
It feels an existence.
It grows and grows until a gardener comes along and chops it down to plant a flower.
The gardener sees the vine as nothing—like from where it came from.
The gardener sees the vines as job security.
Do you ever wonder why their what they are?
Do you ever think it through or just assume?
Are you brighter than them in their non-accomplishment?
Well, what so far have you accomplished?
Do you ever wonder why you’re what you are?
And what are you?
And what are they?
Are you that so far apart, where you can judge,
Even before coming close to the start of ever knowing them?
No matter how deep the cut, the vine will keep on growing.
All Content Copyright © Chris J. Melanson 2008 - 2009. All Rights Reserved.