Sensation

A blade of grass on the ground grows in front of my eyes.

It possesses a vibrant green hue,

it sprotes out of the floor.

This blade was stepped on in another life.

It was crushed, trampled, and pulverized.

It could have been so much more before,

if only everyone treated it with care.

Oh, and the potential it had to be so many wonderful things.

But for now this blade will grow.

It still chooses to grow,

even though it holds traumatizing remnants of the past.

It still grows,

knowing it has a long way to go.

This blade can not be tamed.

One can not be sure if this green beauty is growing because of adequate sunlight this time around, or because water is finally reaching the roots of this plant life.

At this point the possibilities are endless.

But at this moment this blade of grass grows.

Although it may seem like this blade is doing nothing,

the possessor of this thought is gravely mistaken.

This budding blade is rapidly splitting its cells from sun up till sun down.

It feastes on carbon, water, and sunlight.

Turning it’s body toward the sun, shamelessly seeking its attention.

This blade produces sugars for its own use.

A remarkably small structure is making six carbon rings of power.

It’ll burn this sugar as it pleases to propel its existence.

It does this even though it could be stomped on again.

It does this even though it may have a long way to go until it embodies its full form.

Is it idiotic for this being to trek this journey with such uncertainty?

That is not a question for today, as this green life still continues to grow.

It’s almost oblivious to the world around it, but knows everything about it.

It screams I am growing in silence.

One can not be sure if this green wonder will sprout today or tomorrow.

One can not be sure if this green wonder will be demolished today or tomorrow.

However, it still grows.

Mindlessly staring at this green beauty, one is lost.

Does this electrifyingly simple weed know how in line it is with humanity?

Our unconscious thoughts and actions are undeniable parallel.

We are but two waves riding the same tide.

We are both on this journey of unconscious growth.

Neither of us aware of why we do this.

My arm brushes against the gravel on the ground.

Skin parts, red liquid oozes out of this newly formed opening.

Small specks of rock hug this novel portal of entry.

One’s mind is no longer transfixed on this green wonder, but only for seconds.

Lively red fluid rushes to form a clump.

Skin surrounding the gash rises ever so slightly.

Like the cells of a plant, cells of the body set out on their own journey.

Venturing onto another symphony of division in another form.

This journey is also one of uncertainty.

Will this gash close properly and return to what it once was?

Will this be the cut that leaves a scar and never heals properly?

No one is completely sure but one’s body still shifts gears so suddenly to act.

It's almost like clockwork.

One consumes sugars, drinks water, breathes air, and seeks rest to feed into this process.

Why is the body trekking on such a strenuous yet seemingly simple process?

This could happen again and be much worse, why continue?

Or could this be just the beginning of it getting better for the next time?

Don’t ask.

It is all the same thing.

Nothing is different to me.

Because if something like this happens again everything just starts over again.