Waiting to Bloom

Why is there so much

Drain and heaviness

And sweat

To the loneliness

Of our days,

When there’s

So much around us

To do,

And make,

And share,

And to freakin’ love,

And to love one another?

What’s so hard about sharing

And playing works of light

Amongst all of us

As well as ourselves?

We think too much

About any drain

And just the prick

Of the slightest inconvenience,

And numb what we feel

And all that we wish

To give

And to love

But never do...

What flowers can bloom

In such untended soil?