Home » Poems » Flower



It’s a small world and sometimes it helps us
To grow. And we grow.
But sometimes we don’t
And we cultivate, instead.
It’s slow going but something about this is cathartic.
Like it’s the world helping me, or you, to go.

Of course, child, it’s a supersition to think
That that the universe or even the world
Or even that the street you live on is somehow in
Sync with your wavelength.
That’s just another Noble Lie we learn from no-one special.
Truth is the universe is statistically more likely
To be out to get us than to help us.
We’re just too self-absorbed and somehow too humble
To truly realise this.


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