Learning from Plant

 

I do not announce growth.
I do not prove existence.
I grow.
I exist.

Silence works.

Rock opens.
Green appears.
The wind turns.

 

 

 

 

 

I bloom.
No invitation.

Wind arrives.
Petals fall.

I do not please.
I do not ask.

You stop.
Stillness.

 

 

 

 

 

I am not alone.

Unseen,
roots touch roots.

Water moves.
Warning passes.

The first network. 

I do not claim land.
I exchange.

I do not seek attention.
I remain.

No conquest.

Coexistence.

 

 

 

 

I turn toward light.
I accept shadow.

Cracks in stone.
Thin soil.
Old walls.

I lived there.

Downward, I root.
Upward, I reach.
At once.

Limits exist.
Possibility continues.

 

 

 

 

 

I do not hurry growth.
I do not shorten waiting.

I live
in a rhythm
beyond human reach.

Time
is not an enemy.
It is soil.

Seeds
wake
in their own season.

 

 

 

 

 

When winter comes,
I become quiet.

I do not doubt spring.
I do not rush awakening.

I rest.
Growth pauses.

I am gathering.

Spring will arrive.

I will open
fully.

 

 

 

 

 

A forest
is never sudden.

I endure seasons.
I endure light,
near and far.

Time builds roots.
Rings record patience.

What lasts
takes time.

 

 

 

 

 

I do not compare flowering.

When it is time, I bloom.
When wind comes, I fall.

Early or late
means nothing.

I tend only
to my season
and the soil beneath me.

 

 

 

 

 

To learn from me
is a turn in posture:

From reaching outward
to rooting inward.
From constant motion
to quiet growth.
From resistance
to coexistence.

Grow
in your own soil.

Become
yourself.

 

 

 

 

 

You are already

whole.