growing slow but growing up

presently I plant a seed

hoping later life will grow

so why the expectation that I live in the now?

the future holds so much potential

I am the dirt in which my mind constantly plants seeds

each representative of my wants and needs

but why live in mud when later I can have beauty and pleasantries?

the fruits of my labor but the labor never comes

my hand full of seeds that I do not nurture

a head full of hopes but none in my future

the present can only be a dream of later promises it seems

but if the flower never grows

and if the dreamy hopes I'll never know

might as well just hold the seeds inside of me

soil that I am full of unrealized possibilities

dreamy dreams I'll dream instead

not past, future, or present, just in my head