The Greenhouse

Billions of souls all flowering for identity
facing towards the sun and trying to blossom as unique
in a greenhouse where the beds are always overcrowded.

Some sprout as stunning roses
while others becoming weeds,
but it is in the roots their true essence lies,
where their creep as vines that can strangle
or simple seek to nourish and give life.

There is no reason seen by the system of planting
the gardener always tills unseen,
he doesn’t explain his methods
in ways that always make sense.

So the seasons of aging are sheltered
for the spring of many hearts,
it comes as an inner sprouting
at the time that ticks inside,
being so different for everyone.

Clustering together are those of like petals
who try to make a bouquet out of the harmony,
but it often gets so complicated
as each one gets preoccupied with one’s own glory.

How the ground of life changes so often,
wilting and new births constantly altering the scene.
And though we know our fate is to wilt,
we all still want to believe
our summer will last forever.

When fall appears in our stems
each responds in their own way,
some trust to the soil’s owner for their fate
others merely try in vain to remain in bloom,
hoping what happened to the rest
will somehow pass them by.