Leaf On Leaf


I am but a seed in a grouping of seedlings admiring the cultivar,
it is my dream that Scores and wriggles through me,
I fight not to detest it.
it could be a tendency of ambition
but nonetheless it is regulated by law and causality,
yet progress to be made.
Only to be interrupted by a bunch of hapless hopefuls
or the hopeless happy I forget which. deadwood regardless.

For where I am travelling is of my own choice,
but completely not of will.
We collide, will and desire.
We photosynthesise something called destiny? surely not.

As we grow my desires traverse the endless moors
in search of a path less travelled foremost,
but for most, the seasoned commuters abiding the perennial sights,
it sears our view.
The scorch burns as it burns the bush
yet somehow controlled and tolerated. Hardy.

The only thrash of colour is the subtle,
a flicker of light through leaf on leaf,
overlapping green, leaf on leaf high amidst the treetops.

The only breath of aspiration is the view from below,
not just to aspire pollinating but to dream.

Leaf on leaf, a flicker of life through green,leaf on leaf.

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