Purpose

A seed left alone,
relies on the earth.
She prays for a sprout,
her reasons for birth.

To live with no purpose, 
is her greatest fear.
Gained strength from the sun,
dries up her moist tears.

As her seamless growth
stuns her with surprise.
Her fears are now gone,
the clouds start to cry.

Not knowing herself, 
or what she will be.
embracing the tales,
exchanged by the trees.

They spoke of a time, 
when they didn’t know,
what they would become,
or how they would grow.

They learned from the breeze,
to simply exhale,
their breath offers life,
and wind to a sail.

Blooming with reason,
knowing of her power,
her petals brings joy,
with love from a flower.

– Grace Y. Estevez-Reddy

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