Some might call my choices foolish
Reckless, even. Stupid, when will
She ever learn to stop making
Wishes on weeds. I guess it’s a
Thing of my girlhood I won’t
Leave, to keep seeing these as
Flowers. Seeing bad ideas as seeds.

Every moment I think that I’m done
The light changes and more is revealed.
I dry my feet and wait in the car
I’ll suffer for my art but not that much.
The wind rustles, I wonder how many
Wishes are being wasted right now
On nature. Mother earth has a lot to
Wish for right now though.

Humans like me we try but we still
Stomp on un-mowed grass and plants
That we perceive to not matter as
Much. Like we could know better.
As if we would know better than
Nature intended. So maybe nature
Did intend me to be this way
In it’s complicated force, not all
Parts of nature are beautiful or nice
More often it is simply necessary.

It’s an interesting thing to watch oneself
Create oneself and destroy oneself
Simultaneously. One would argue that
It isn’t possible. We must first die
And then be reborn and grow from there.
Then, I think of expansion, and how if we
Are all connected, I am always born, reborn
Dying and thriving all at the same time.

So what if I consciously chose to do this?
What if I took that seemingly meaningless
Dandelion and blew so hard that I did
Nature’s work for her? Watching the seeds
Drift and land where they may. Some
May die, some may spread and grow into other
“weeds” But then, may some get eaten and
digest into something bigger than I had
planned for, but was naturally ready for.

There isn’t anything that I want
That isn’t all ready sewn into the fabric
Of my making. If I choose it so. I
Choose to uncover this. Take a risk, be
foolish and try once again.

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