A Thought

     My Mind. my master, my monster. You tell me how to breath, when to blink and who to trust. But who told you?  You started my first smile and moved my first steps. But who showed you? Guiding my every move, criticising all I do. Where did you get that power?

     Like a seed in a garden, it will be planted.  Planted deep in the soil, deep and distant in you.  So deep and so distant it is almost forgotten.  It will grow, first unnoticed, in the dirt, in your subconscious. Although it is still covered and undetected, it develops. In dreams it starts appearing, not knowing it friend or foe, you try to examine it, break it down to its core and make sense of it’s presence, but you are defenceless in dreams.

     The seed finally breaks through the surface and into you. You find it.  The little seedling is still to small to decipher as a flower or weed.  When you find it you analyse it, connect it to anything you can, generalizing and linking, trying to find patterns to determine the source and outcome. Giving it attention and focus, giving the seed sunlight and water.  It grows, but slowly. Once you have figured all you can, you focus on other thoughts, leaving the growing plant alone.  You wander around, moving through priorities, plans and past memories. You stay the longest in memories, lingering, hoping there you can feel warmth and satisfaction.  The plant takes advantage of your reminiscing, and although it has little rain and sun, it matures.  

     You come across it again and notice thorns appearing.  A weed, you must pull it out. But roses have thorns as well.  Knowing the risk, you water it and provide sunlight, caring for and watching it everyday. Waiting for a rose. It grows rapidly now, locking its roots deep and stretching out for the sunlight, for your attention.  Its mystery fascinates you, and you tend it.  More signs of a weed appear, but it’s deceit alters you perception.  

     It thrives on it’s own now, and has little dependence on you.  You realise your danger and try to pull the weed, but you can only rip the thorny leaves, the roots are still far in the soil and will take perseverance and and diligence to kill.  You cut it off from all sources of nutrient; no sun, no rain, no attention. It is difficult for you to ignore, because it’s roots and leaves are everywhere, leaving little space for you to go. As slow as it came, it diminishes. You pull and pull and finally the shallow roots unearth.  You are cautious of where you go and what you think. The weed become lesser and lesser. You know something can never be gone completely, but you keep it managed.  You analyze, generalize and link. Find patterns and discover the source and outcome. It is not gone, but it taught you something.  Something with deeper roots, to have a guard, be careful what you let in, and trust only what is true.