Whatever next?, Poetry by Alex Cottle

A seed

May find it’s way

among the soil.

Let it stay, let it grow…

or land they will, the flock of crows.

Genres: Dystopia, relationship, free will and love.

Whatever next? by Alex Cottle

A seed

 

May find it’s way

 

among the soil.

 

Let it stay, let it grow…

 

or land they will, the flock of crows.

 

Either way, it may die.

 

Maybe a butterfly’s wing beat will cause it’s ruin.

 

Perhaps it endures. Whatever next?

 

Shall we stand here, questioning, perplexed?

 

It will grow, taking up precious space.

 

Space that could more than easily be replaced.

 

It is time to decide, is it in our favour?

 

Will it flower? Shall we save her?

 

Or will we uproot it? Call me a traitor.

 

Nature! Nature! Hear my call,

 

please do not stall.

 

Do not make this feeling linger.

 

For is that not why you gave us minds?

 

What use is the mind, when we have conscience?

 

The smart decisions are almost always nonsense.

 

We feel bad, sad, clad in blackmail,

 

irons, chains.

 

But the tick is this my friend, my companion.

 

Whatever we determine is already determined.

 

The purpose,

 

of this seed, rooted inside,

 

grants you permission to think you decide.

 

* * * * *

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