Growth

“I am stuck in perpetuity. I am growing, not unlike a seed stuck between damp towels. My roots have no place to sink into, to take hold of the soils beneath; and yet I am growing. Preparing for new life, for a tomorrow where I stand tall and bare the fruits of my labors. Beautiful to the eye, sweet to the tongue, delightful to be near. Yet, I’ve nowhere to go. Nowhere to grow into, other than the damp towels flowing over me or into myself. An unending period of growth, forever stuck in a search for a foothold for my roots to stretch thoroughly. That place of comfort, that place of security, that place of warmth, that place called home. And there i’d find myself. For I cannot be found in a continuous cycle of growing, as I do not know if it is a beneficial growth. And home is where I am found, with you growing together and nipping the bad buds before they sprout. Instead I am stuck between these damp towels, surely waiting for the mold to overtake me.”