The Wick and the Flower Pot

From a writers work shop

The Wick and the Flower Pot

It starts with a seed, or a little spark,

And slowly it expands itself.

With roots, or devouring heat.

When a seed or spark has room.

There is a big garden of a world,

Yet we plant our seeds in flower pots.

There is plenty of wood to burn.

Yet we light wicks of candles.

We like to say we know the world,

And understands its crevices and details.

Yet, we’re so buried in a hole,

With a television broadcasting our lives.

So that, we no need to worry,

About the things outside our realms.

Close your eyes and scream,

So that you cannot hear and see.

We build big houses to hold our stuff,

Purchase expensive security systems,

And don weapons to keep us safe.

Yet, the world is more dangerous than ever.

Children are taught to hide under desks,

Women are taught to keep an eye on their drinks.

People are taught to report a bag left behind,

Close your eyes, cover your ears. It will be alright.

Yet, we plant our seeds in flower pots,

And light fires on the wicks of candles.

As if blocking the roots growth,

Or not letting the flame expand,