I have tried writing a post for the last twenty minutes about why I like this poem and why I wanted to share it today. I can't seem to get it right so for the first time ever I am just going to let the poem speak for itself!
Let them be as flowers
always watered, fed, guarded, admired
but harnessed to a pot of dirt.
I'd rather be a tall, ugly weed
clinging on cliffs, like an eagle
wind - wavering above high, jagged rocks.
To have broken through the surface of
stone, to live, to feel exposed to the
madness of the vast, eternal sky.
To be swayed by the breezes of an
ancient sea, carrying my soul, my seed,
beyond the mountains of time or into
the abyss of the bizarre.
I'd rather be unseen, and if then
shunned by everyone, than to be a
pleasant smelling flower, growing in
clusters in the fertile valley, where
they're praised, handled, and plucked
by greedy human hands.
I'd rather smell of musty green stench
than of sweet, fragrant lilac.
If I could stand alone, strong and free,
I'd rather be a tall, ugly weed.