Growing From The Seed
But whom is to say how that seed will grow?
A change with the bitterness and cold of times covered in snow.
Who are we to judge how someone will be.
It's not already chosen.
Not even with the best intentions can fortune tellers always be right.
For a prediction a lot of the time are based on intuition.
The gut, the instinct baring.
The soul glowing with aura that makes you believe one thing.
It is as it is.
With a closed minds we choose to accept it as the only possibility.
But what of the other possibilities.
Do they fizzle out because of our bias beliefs because of what we know?
Knowledge is food we choose to eat, but do we feed others the same thing?
Or do we let them choose for them selves?
A spoon forcefully put in someone's mouth.
Doesn't mean they will agree with it, or like it.
They might just spit it back out.
Yuk, your wrong the child says as he regurgitates it as if he is wiser then we are.
And in some ways he might be.
For he hasn't yet made many decisions, based on influence of others.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
