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It bloomed its way out of the soft earth

& began to feed on the shining sun

The Sapling rejoiced in its happy birth

& sprouted tendrils, one by one.

& green it grew, and greener.

with thickening stem and shoot

& mean the world grew, and meaner

But the sapling clawed with stronger root.

& so time began to pass, unrelenting.

The sapling, no more a bud—

There were things it began resenting—

Until one day, when in seeped blood.

To fill it’s greenness with red-

& infuse it with feeling.

But it served another purpose instead—

Heavy with emotion, the plant began kneeling.

The warmth of blood thrived so;

The little plant bore early fruit

--& The stems with flowers aglow,

Garbing the season in un-seasonal suit.

And little by little, as it grew;

The little plant began to see;

& soon it could hear, & soon it knew.

How existence was designed to be.

With little to love, and a lot to lose

It’s fear bore shades of flame;

Of Orange, and red, and such hues

& twisted vines, difficult to tame.

Then one fateful day,

It awoke to find

It’s dear own fruits, all taken away

& the bereft soul lost its mind.

It shed its lovely flowers to the ground

And cried till the leaves dried.

It’s sorrow knew no bound—

And its orangery died.

But what kept the plant alive—

T’was the blood and the vine,

Together they spun a deadly hive—

As when honey and sting combine.

They made the plant its roots severe,

And drop its straightened form.

So it may creep up every tree near,

To quench its angry storm.

& so the livid plant braced every tree, weak or sound;

And Clung to them in loss and love.

With none to hold it back down--

--It held another above.