The Young Seedling (circa 2018)

The young seedling,

Its four lime green leaves stretch,

Welcoming the world with open arms.

The young seedling awaits its blooming,

And with the guidance of kind trees,

Not even the winds can stop it.

Interesting and ironic it is, then,

That its life could end with the slightest pull.

So persistent yet so delicate the seedling remains.

My young soul,

With ever so many opportunities surrounding it,

Dazzled and eager to explore the magnificent world,

My soul awaits its blossoming of success.

With my mind as its guide,

No materialistic thing will stand in its path.

But, like many young souls,

It is fragile and can easily be pricked at.

Both stubborn and feeble my soul seems to be.