A wise man once told me
to only obey my voice,
but my voice is a frail
flower caught in a hurricane.
Not just any flower, but
a dandelion. And with every
gust of wind I release new
seeds of ideas that spread
through the feild. The heavy
rain waters the thoughts,
Inspiring them to grow;
To flourish. So wise man
now you tell me, which thought
should my voice follow?