16: Honored

I do not know

what to prepare for people. I do not

sit down to this. Poetry

is not mine. I am

only participating with

the purpose's shapes

and

of words. Of its gift, a humble weed

reaching for the sun may burn up or flower first, but this is not for it to decide; to do

its job: it should only grow. Forever,

it will teach anyone

how

to work. Just listen