FLOWER OR FLY
The pilgrim rests his staff and tears of frustration soak the ground.
He backed lame horses and fished without hooks.
All trust in trodden paths had long evaporated and
All hope for preferred states were left behind.
From this abandonment
A sapling appeared,
A fledgling peaked from the nest.
To flower or fly is at the whim of destiny
Not in his jurisdiction.
~ Rudra Nua