Love letters to no one: the weed

I biked along a busy road,

people swarmed everywhere.

But none of them saw,

None of them even looked (it seems they never truly do)

At a pushed up clump of asphalt.

Something had pushed through inches deep cement from the bottom.

It had broken,

And

Sitting there exposed

Was one

Simple

Weed.

One small flimsy plant had broken through stones and asphalt and concrete.

What makes up most of our paths, towns and roads,

Lays the foundation for dominating cities

Forms bunkers and heavy duty structures

And it was smashed all by one tiny weed

A weed I could kill under my foot with one blow

But that some how pushed up out of the concrete

The cracked edges rising around it like a crown.

All to reach the sun and live.

When I was I child,

I used to stare at the sun.

Of course my mom would yell "Stop that! You'll go blind!"

But it was beautiful

And I wanted to know

Why?

It shined so much

And

How?

It looked under all that shine,

What else was it really?

And when I saw that little plant

I saw it yearn so desperately for the sun that it grew through concrete,

And I, childishly, thought it the same as me.

In a way.

Except it had succeeded

it had broken through all the layers and reached the sun

But I suppose,

Like me

It can feel the sun but never truly see or touch it.

Of course it doesn't know that,

It's a plant.

I stopped and stared for a while

appreciating it in its impossible task

Only to be ushered on by my hasty family

"But look! Itsn't this cool?"

"Yes fascinating now go we haven't got time for plants"

There's always time

Sometimes the smallest things are the most important.

Because that tiny plant made my day

It doesn't even know

No one will ever know

It was a story to me.

That can't be told in words,

Only by looking.

And in the seconds I viewed that weed and thought it over,

I was happy

I loved it for being so imperfect and impossible it was perfect.

A stupid little weed.

And at the same time

I felt rather sad

For only I would know

No one would look at that weed in the same way

To see the story,

The whole beautiful story in front of everyone's faces that they just walk by

Day to day

How I pity them

No one will see the story,

No one takes the time.

Lives are short,

But always "waste time"

When you have none

Because what all those people think of as wasting time

Is usually doing things you want to do.

Little tiny "useless",

"unproductive" things.

No one who wasted time on me.

To look at me like I did that weed.

To care about something so small

And in their mind make it something important.

No one watched me break through barriers to reach the sun.

No one was my sun to fight for.

But in the end I withered

I think no one saw me, people usually don't really look, only with their eyes,

Maybe,

No one loved me like I did that plant

Even though proportionately it was such a small section of out if a lifetime

No one remembered me through all of it

And I remember that weed.

And the sun

And wanting to see the glow and beyond that

Isn't that fair before it ends?