PLANTED WORDS

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Swing from the hanging star oh child 

Lose all the memories of the wild thorns that conspired to embrace your dreams

Dreams about castles and conquering kingdoms

Kingdoms and fortes that might stand against your rulings

Give a loud cry to send a signal to your future self

To remind him to guard his heart and tame his tongue

To remind him about the scar on his left palm

The scar from an attempt to uproot a wild and toxic plant that was sown by a father figure

But a word is enough for the wise

But certainly not enough for the curious

So Child you must come to terms that on your quest for glory, more scars shall appear on your hands

A lot of sowing

A lot of uprooting

A lot of tilling

A lot of cutting of trees that you might have nurtured over the years

Trees that were planted even by your ancestors 

Or parents, or childhood friends and foes

TREES

Deep within the core of your heart’s crust their roots might have travelled

So you take extreme measures to uproot them

A fresh start

A revolution of the mind

Humans call this the Art of learning and unlearning

The great harvest is near

Only the finest fields will stand the test of time to witness it

A fertile mind is worth more than the richest vineyards

Oh Child you are the Tiller that will feed generations

Let you tongue be a planter of good seeds, your mind a fertile land, and your heart a guarded castle

Because it takes nothing for the enemy to sow thorns amidst your precious crops

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