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.