The Seed That Wouldn’t Quit

They told me, “Stop, it’s not your way, Your path is wrong, your sky is gray.” But roots don’t listen to the crowd, they grow beneath the noise so loud, and reach for light they’ve never seen. I walked the fields they never crossed, counted the hours they thought were lost. Their easy crowns were quickly worn, but I kept building, thorn by thorn, a truth that time would prove was keen. For knowledge grows in patient ground, in work where no applause is found. And when the bloom began to rise, their doubt turned slowly into eyes that saw what silence had begun. Now every leaf repeats the call: the seed that fights will stand as tall as any gift the storm may give - for roots that choose their way to live will always find the sun.