All that I am.
All that I'll be.
Is deeply rooted
In the abyss within me.
Imagine that,
Reaching for solid ground
And you look around
But no place to
Rest can be found.
Always reaching
Always growing.
But never touching that
Which you pursue.
Maybe what I thought I knew
Really isn't true.
You tell me.
Or maybe I'll tell you.
I need no soil.
I soak in the atmosphere.
With a little sun
To keep for a rainy day.
They told I wouldn't survive
Yet I inhale the very words you say.
My exhale ensures
that YOU prevail.
It's the cycle of things that grow…
…..I'm a hanging Orchid.
They said my roots
would never find a home
I exist beyond your laws.
Who would have ever known?