Before The Take Off


I am a seedling,
All out in the open,
Rolled through rocky mountain trails,
And over muddy path...


Gasping to bloom into what my ancestors were,
To bloom into magnificence,
Was not a duty nor a destiny,
It was a choice...


A choice to believe,
To be nurtured,
Because...
A seedling can never be too safe,


Human eye's are the best predator,
Picking on the good to keep...
The battered is only good as reserves,
Often goes into rot,


The battered came a long way,
No eyes sees the route,
Just the last product,
Full of scars and bruises...


Who in the end,
Looking too frail to hold up,
Thus, given up,
For human is afraid of another burial...


As they go by the seasons...
In nature's way.


p/s: Uncle Nanda, I don't know why I ended up with something like this. I had no idea but I'm keeping the title and it's sort of a point of view? I don't know what to call this. cheers!