You planted me as a seed

In the black soil of a strange world,
And at the first sign of a stem
You pointed me to the biggest tree
In the center of this megalithic garden
And told me it was the only way. 

My youthful yellow eyes
Wandered to all the other little trees,
The flowers, the bushes, the fruits,
And with a yearning I began to stumble,
But with the ardency of an elephant
Running from a mouse,
You grabbed me by the arm
And turned me again to your tree.

With ignorance in my palms,
and resignation in my veins,
I grabbed those sharp branches.
While respiring nothing but your words,
And photosynthesizing nothing but your ideas,
I made it about half way,
And then I glanced down for the first time.

Your tree surely was the grandest
But it had no efflorescence.
You treat it as though it is a cynosure,
But it’s guidance is like the pointed arrow
Of a snakes head. And a snake
Does not look up at the sky.
And while it’s venom is intoxicating enough
To make you feel as though you’re flying,
That kind of high will never make you mighty. 

So I sat on that tree for decades with
My petals wrapping around me like a straitjacket;
The only thing growing on me were thorns.
And even though I was staring right
At the clear blue sky, I still couldn’t see
What imprisoned me in naivete.

But when I scrutinized those forsaken pods
Dressing the branches around me,
I realized they were all clones,
Phantasms of God,
Drifting on the breeze of empty promises,
Soaking in the rain of old lies, and
Refusing to bloom.  

But I had rainbows in my eyes
And questions in my soul
And how could I ever quench my
Inquisition when I wasn’t allowed
To wonder?
Because, everything outside of this tree,
You said,
Was wicked.

So I began to fear the impish little
Batt Flowers that tickled the roots
Of this august tree,
But when I watched them for hours on end
I could find no substance in your conjecture.
And I started to find the urbanity in their whiskers
and the bigotry in yours. 

Can’t you see you’ve plunged yourself
Into the abyss, at the bottom of the deepest ocean
because you’re too afraid to live?
You’re afraid of knowing any more than
The bark of this dead tree,
Because that bark is all you’ve ever known.
And I suppose you believe a burning bush
Can never regrow its leaves. 

Well, let me tell you,
There’s a whole universe
In every strip of grass;
There’s a macrocosm is
The globules of dew
That have settled under your
cretinous toes.

And if you want to slaughter the
Beetles eating at your roots
Because you think that change
Can only bring harm,
Fine by me,
But take your hands off mine.
I will not be blinded by your
Fear.
I will not be shackled by your
Prosaic vines.

But you see, even though I am freed
Of your pesticides, I still can’t grow because
You were so scared of bugs
slinking their way up my spine
That you planted a rose
In the middle of winter.