From “The colors of wheatfields”
We all missed something.
He was so afraid of losing the rose
The little prince completely forgot to take care of the tree
That was dying on his planet
Because he let the blight spread
Now the elder almost stands dead.
With skin now as hard as scales.
It wasn’t the flower that needed his attention
It was the tree all along.
It looked so deeply rooted in the ground
But he should have guessed the distress behind its peaceful sound
When the wind blew between the branches.
Eyes that never set on its shiny leaves
Deprived of consideration, this beautiful tree
That’s being consumed on the inside
Will soon fall to its demise.
It was in the desert all along
In this so called empty place
It was a green shade here to guide him
Even when light was dim
He, who chose to be blind
He, who only cared about his own mind.
How could it be?
Who could believe that trees needed watering?
Who could believe that something so big and solid could be falling?
They’re taken for granted
But trees can die
And fall over you
Especially when they grow on sick roots.
Trees can get tired of your selfishness
Your silent grins
Your words that drown
And your carelessness.
The prince was lamenting
But there were colors all along.
Now it will fall and smash him on the ground
That’s what happens when you forget about the things that matter
When the tree grows fruit
Each one more bitter than the other.
When you are its blight.
You know what they say
Trees can never be seeds again
But remember that you’re responsible for what you tame
Maybe things don’t have to stay the same.
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