The Conquerer.

I am holding a horse chestnut tree
in the palm of my hand.
The ground under my feet
is strewn with potential,
laden with chances,
bursting with promise.

Small bundles of waiting life
have been thrown out into the cool air,
a gauntlet challenge to the future.
The tree has chosen fragments of its life force,
wrapped them in carefully inscribed skins of polished wood.
and sent them flying.

Only the strongest will survive.


This entry was posted in Poetry..

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