Aren't seeds interesting?
Someone may give them to us. Not knowing what outcome it may present is a kind of surprise.
As if someone gave us hope; another opportunity. They want us to decide whether to plant the seeds, watch it grow or to toss it like garbage; to build on from that hope or to keep being a stubborn.
Sometimes, we buy them ourselves. Bearing the decision of planting it, we are certain for tomorrow.
As if we owe ourselves a favor; a reservation for the future. We have decided before, so waiting is our only option; to wait for the seeds to grow along with the our dreams that comes with it.
Just like those seeds that started to sprout underneath the ground, we are just halfway whether we show our true selves or keep hiding among the crowd.
By the time it develops into a mature plant: a shrub or a tree, a fruit-bearing or not, attractive or unalluring, hardwood or soft-stem, everything just turns into a maze. It branches out, full of leave-end dead ends, until there is no other way out.
But one thing is definite; a certainty.
If what we have left inside is pure angst and hatred for those seeds, we can always hate but never to delete them.
That is why seeds are interesting.
Just like us.
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