The monster knocks,knocks knocks,
collectively at our minds and lingers there
daring to be moved away from its throne.
Fear they call it, reigns over our thoughts
by our own election and contribution.
Yet, what if I told you that fear was a tree?
Would it be easier to be set free?
Fear is a tree that starts as a seed.
Many are the farmers that plant it.
We dig up good soil, and give it a place,
then give all our care to it. We give it
our water,we give it our time until
A grandiose tree emerges from the earth.
We expect it to give fruit, and it does.
Yet it is not what expected.
Its roots, grasp our minds
and creep into our dreams.
The trunk,although hollow,
reaches the skies above.
It provides fruit,
yet not vibrant or plump.
Instead, they carry a taste
of rotten colors and bitter sounds.
Yet if it is a tree, rooted to us,
and we are the farmers planting,
Our life begins when we resign.
If we cease to water it,the leaves will shrivel
If we start to ignore it, surely it must die.
It is easier to see our lives through a metaphor.
If we are the farmers, fear is a tree
our lives begins when we stop
spreading the seeds.