Friday, October 17, 2008
Monday, October 6, 2008
Seedlings
I wanted to present a short piece I wrote about an apple.
3/07
I wake up. I look around, seeing other seeds in the blossom. I am but one of many that are to grow and ripen, like the ones before us.
That is my life.
4/12
I'm developing. As I look around, I come to a realization: me, the one next to me, and the others-- we're all the same. Some of us are larger, and some are bruised, but we all have the same purpose. Our lives are monotone, routine-- scripted.
Yet we live on.
4/18
The time has come for me to leave. This tree, which has been my home, will just be a memory. I wait now-- in the hands of one of them-- to be used as they see fit.
My life is done. I lie in the depths of the garbage-- slowly rotting away-- thinking about the past.
It's not fair. But that's life.
-Me
Seedlings
3/07
I wake up. I look around, seeing other seeds in the blossom. I am but one of many that are to grow and ripen, like the ones before us.
That is my life.
4/12
I'm developing. As I look around, I come to a realization: me, the one next to me, and the others-- we're all the same. Some of us are larger, and some are bruised, but we all have the same purpose. Our lives are monotone, routine-- scripted.
Yet we live on.
4/18
The time has come for me to leave. This tree, which has been my home, will just be a memory. I wait now-- in the hands of one of them-- to be used as they see fit.
My life is done. I lie in the depths of the garbage-- slowly rotting away-- thinking about the past.
It's not fair. But that's life.
-Me
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