Watching the Grass Grow
Nothing more, nothing less.
The weeds sprout overnight amongst my newly planted grass.
Daily, I pluck them. But it seems for every one I pluck, two more appear. There is even a little war in my yard. I cannot convince them to grow somewhere else. So I kill them, and I will keep watching my grass grow. Weeds, tiny terrorists in my yard. Although they do not harm me, I do not want them there, for it is my land , my space. Many of them are even beautiful in their own way....but I do not want them there. We are like grass.
My mother digs some weeds from her yard and plants them in her flower bed. I used to let them all grow...but it just seems messy, and chaotic, and chaos is not beautiful, not to me. While I tend to the grass, chaos invades my house. It is often hotter in my house than in the yard, so I will make the yard my refuge, and the place
where I can control a tiny bit of the universe, or it least attempt
to overcome the sadness that is overtaking the world.
violence begets violence
wake up, world!