Seeds of gradual wisdom,
planted by one's own hand,
grow forth from the consistent,
loving watering, remembered
during the daily routines.
Yet, such insightful gestures
that produce beautiful forests
do not need to be clever
as misguided words designed to deceive;
do not need to be masked
with illustrious, falsely-fabricated photos;
and do not need to be blinded
from decorated lights that attract moths.

Rather than the various tropes
captivated and projected through
self-proclaimed prophets and mentors,
the humble observer endures
each inspiring, spoken lesson
as soft, ever present headaches,
innate as the erratic voice
that frustratingly reminds us
that we are meant to do good.

"What must we endure?"
Cried the naive child.

"When must we endure?"
Lamented the cynical adult.

"How must we endure?"
Worried the desperate parent.

"Why must we endure?"
Questioned the lazy innovator.

"Whom must we endure?"
Rallied by those who dodge the questions.

When concerning sculptures,
patience and skill are vital,
since many amateurs will boast
their cracked wooden carvings,
constructed carelessly with
dull, heavy broadswords
flung in random directions,
but only an expert
can transpose the beauty
of life-bearing flesh
onto cold, hard marble
using only the simple, strict strikes
of a small chisel and hammer.

If your aim is
to apathetically gather
the useless trivial facts
of unfamiliar strangers,
then simply ask:

"What is your favorite color?"
"What is your favorite food?"
"What is your favorite music?"

Repeat, regurgitate, etc.

If your aim is
to understand and engage
the delicate identity
of a human being,
then diligently follow with:

"Why?"

Creativity flows
like ink from a hose,
stubbornly unbound,
which claims
precious photographs
cut from one piece.
And I pull the preferred,
personal planes,
folding them,
twisting them,
building them
into paper frogs,
before burning them
in precise order
to inhale their scent.