In time, the sapling grows
And sprawls above the dirt it once trembled on.
It braved the storms and vicious winds
And raged against the surging tides of fate.
In time, the sapling grew
And it reached the apex of its existence.

Why should we be different?
When the natural cycle allows us to grow.
Shall we cower in fear of adversity?
And forestall our ascendancy to glory?

Mankind will grow like that tree
And in time we shall reach the precipice of destiny
In time, we shall become gods
And our triumphs shall rewrite reality anew.

There are people like libraries
Full of books without words on their pages
Ornate and majestic
Without anything inside

And there are people like mud huts
With fires that warm others who enter
With cracked walls and dirt floors
Who can offer you all the wisdom of modesty

There are people who show and there are people who give.

I know nothing of many things
And in that I find my solitude
Comfort in knowing that I know I do not know much
Though I tip-toe on ignorance
And sometimes fall into arrogance
I am humbled by my foolishness
And aware that I know little

It is liberating to say I do not know
As I extend my invitation to understand more
Every chance I have is to grow
Against the inching tides of complacency

Some days I fear I learned little
But at least you cannot lose what you've gained
Though you may grow stale and dull
What you have will always be there

I know nothing of many things
And I am scared but well secured
I do not falter in the face of doubt
For I will learn to overcome it.

I have a problem that I cannot shake
Caught between tectonic plates
Where I love the world
But hate the crowds
I love the people
Yet hate their traits

I have a problem I cannot hide
All alone I fight inside
It withers down my patience few
So here I boil, here I stew
I tend to hate those I detest
Though I have never met the rest

I have a problem, this is true
Where I love to live
But hate to do,
Anything with anyone
For I can't stand give attention due

I have a problem, perhaps, so do you
For we are the unfortunate few.
Those who live behind a mask
Who cling so tight upon the past
We truly are a wretched crew,
But for now we are the unfortunate few

Life may very well be about taking
But not the kind that leaves others bitter
A taking that reciprocates with giving
And one realizes that one can take it all
But give it all back
Then they will truly master the world

Do you remember the cherry tree?
How it bloomed when the cold would recede?
Can you remember? Can you see?
When spring time came and the sun was freed?

Do you remember the pink petals soft?
Or the times we walked and it waved to us in the breeze?
Matched with the blue sky and white clouds aloft.
The whispers through its arms and leaves?

Do you remember that old cherry tree?
How on rainy days it braved the storms.
In the wild it grew happy and free.
Its outstretched arms, breaking all the norms.

Do you remember when we laughed and ran?
With ***** feet and playful bliss.
I remember that old towering fan.
And those times I surely do miss.