The Useless Little Shoot

Orders a cup full of leniency for the lack of poetic beauty...

The young shoot
Frolicking amidst the
Luxury of youth,
Blessed by Time.

It seeks the birds
Bids the bees
Embraces the sunlight
Kisses the earth.

What joy! What freedom?
"But what purpose?
Useless!"

So says the tree
With Aged bark,
Towering above the little shoot,
Casting a dark shadow:

"Such decadence,
With no direction!
Grow branches and leaves!
Immature!"

Little shoot cowers in
Self-consciousness, guilt.
Shivering in the sudden chill.
Why? How? Where?

"Little one, look up! Why do you tear?
Shall you not someday grow to be
A sturdy tree, with full crown and
Nest of flowers?

"Your time is to come.

"Worry not about Aged Fury,
Listen to pretty Nature.
Follow your good heart".

The blind forest allowed Time
To Pass, and one found a
Young tree, strong and happy,
And an aged bark, dying.

That dark shadow,
Cankering at its roots,
Decaying from within.
Why? O justice?
It clamoured for the sun
With such purpose it forgot
To take firm roots in the
Ground.

In the end,
It was the useless little shoot,
That patiently grew
And found its eternal purpose.

09may06

Uncle T