Wrote this one on a random day of December 2013.

“I have so much to say. So much that it woke me despite that my body’s still begging me to sleep. My heart was pounding and so I could not stay slumber. I wrote down my very first thoughts of the morning.”

I am restless like a plant is brought inside a house;

dreaming of sunlight;

begging for room to grow

deep in the wild sand where I most know.

It’s quite a nice place inside, I know,

but my roots were nourished from a different ground.

No, no. Who am I to boast of this meat suit? I cannot.

I am just a man whose err is inevitable.

I thank you for placing me in a pretty pot, a pot so rare to chance, 

but see, I long for sunlight and my withered leaves say I am.

But I am a plant and cannot move until green thumb’s hands

Oh, if only I was given a chance

I would grow into a fruitful tree,

serving good green thumb with all my glee.

I am a plant with a heart of a big tree,

waiting for that chance to be given to me.

Afraid, am I not? You ask. I think I should be;

but then again I am not. There’s just too much courage inside of me.

My confidence is not of mine, but in the Giver of my life,

my Jesus, who says the favor is mine.

Until then that my heart and the right time intertwine,

I’ll be here inside, stretching out of windows for sunlight and the wild.