~Defeated~ My ideas. My beliefs. My self. My opinions. I try to fit them into boxes. But they just can't stay put. Like the nice little concepts that they are. No, they are reckless and untamed. No matter how hard I try to shove them into constraints. Hold it tight. And refuse to look inside for fear it will catch me by surprise, and blow the box to pieces. They tear it apart inside, Burst from its seams. And I am left defeated.
Perhaps these things weren't meant for boxes. But remain liquid. Ever changing. Maybe I started it wrong in the first place. For a seed inside a box is useless. Yet in the soil it can grow.
Sure. Boxes are safe. They can be left alone. And returned to just the same. Though given the chance. The care. Those boxes can be opened up to form the foundations. Upon which true growth can be sown. And that first sprout may sway in the wind. But given time it's roots will sew deep. Its stalk strong. And travellors will come and sit beneath it and admire. Eat of its fruit and plant seeds in their minds. To grow their own tree and look inside the boxes they carry. On their shoulders. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Next piece.
Hey, I guess the title speaks for itself. A desert symbolizes most of time a hopeless situation. I guess its well shown this way. Do the colours stand for something?
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