I hold in my hand
my seeds of anger,
of resentment,
of frustration,
of bitterness,
of regret.
What flowers will grow from these seeds I wonder?
What colour will they be?
What of their perfume?
I cast the seeds onto the ground
where they were swallowed by the Earth.
I watered the ground where they fell and now I wait …
The sun rose and fell for many days
before I returned to my plot and there they were:
blooms dark as night
atop black stems
and jagged leaves.
And a strange perfume filled the air:
not foul as I would have thought
but pleasant,
intoxicating even.
I breathed deep,
savouring the aroma,
and a sense of calm overwhelmed my senses.
I shut my eyes,
basking in their bouquet.
And when I opened them
mere moments later,
I held in my hand
a few seeds,
seeds like no others I have ever seen;
they seemed to shimmer in the light.
I cast the seeds onto the ground
and they were swallowed by the Earth.
I watered the ground where they fell and now I wait …
The sun rose and fell for many days
before I returned to my plot and there they were:
blooms white, bright as day
atop the greenest stems
and greenest leaves.
Now I had a simple choice:
which of the blooms to choose?
Should it be those blackest blooms
dark like the night
or the white bright blooms,
leaving the others
to wither and die from neglect?
I am yet to decide …