Intuition

 

Upon birth, a seed of thought is planted

And smothered in soil

Until its cultivators find

That they’re ready to water it,

That it’s time to dictate its growth.

 

Once it emerges from the protective seed coat,

Nurture overruns nature,

And it takes in the nutrients bestowed upon it

To become the thing

That it’s supposed to be.

 

It grows on its own, away from the home,

Expected to be a tree

With a wide canopy of varying leaves

Of knowledge

That can be trimmed down if need be.

 

Society tracks its progress,

Ensuring that it grows as strong as possible,

A novice to be molded to its full potential,

Within the limits set,

Maybe a little more, nothing less.

 

A leaf can be removed if it learns one too many,

A branch torn down if it’s set too low,

Flowers modified when colors shall change.

A tree should know that all it should know

Stems from the water fed from an unknown source below.

 

Spoon-fed knowledge can’t account for experience.

They’ve forgotten the impacts of seasons,

Hurricane force winds,

Harmful bacteria contained within,

Invasive species,

Weathering after storms,

They’ve forgotten to account for the things

That can’t be controlled.

 

Nutrients can be given

And leaves can be pruned

But knowledge won’t be confined

To shining small jewels.

We don’t know a thing

So they teach what they choose

But at the end of the day

We don’t know if that’s true.

 

We take what we’re given

And search for much more,

But our intuition can’t be taken

And won’t be ignored.

 

This poem is about: 
Our world

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