Growing weeds

I sowed seeds, numerous,

In the minds of multitudes,

In the form of benevolent deeds,

Some tiny, some giant,

And a few most precious,

With the hope of a good harvest.

Some never sprouted or rooted;

Some were infant mortals.

Some fell on rocks or in deserts,

Or were prey to the pests,

With the rest that grew and bore fruits,

Which were either sour or stolen

Or were left to go rotten.

Yet, with the solace I go

That the bio-mass that I made

Is very much in need

To serve as a mulch to the folks.

19.07096, Agartala