The Tale

Dark and hazy was the tale as it was told to me. I tried to clean my lenses off, in hopes to clearer see. But even though the tale was new, and flawless as can be. It's words were all I gathered and they meant not much to me. I grew to be a different man, from the one that steered my path. Seems he walked too shortly with me, on this journey, not even half. See he left something with me, that I carried all my days. Undecoded was the message, but I kept it anyways. As life turned into challenge, I searched for answers still. Not knowing is the worst of things, a person ever feels. He once said keep down your head, and grind this stone of life, don't listen to the people with no edge upon their knife. He told me not to call a lie, if the truths not known to me. And the friends men have will tell the tale of who they want to be. I wish that I had understood, much quicker than I did. And now I have to think of things, I've lost because of it. But I knew so much at that young age, that my opinions wouldn't change. The words he spoke, the life he told, were distant and somewhat strange. But years have taught me lessons that the tales he told me tried. And he took that wisdom with him, when he laid down his life. But the seeds he planted, on the wayside finally grew. So I wish to take a few of them, and pass them on to you. I doubt that you will see them grow, while your young and full of life. But you'll remember where they're planted, and you'll check them time to time. And just like winter caves to spring, the fog will drift away. And then you'll know exactly what, those stories tried to say. They'll come as revelations, as flowers in the fields. Some here, some there, some everywhere. How long have they been here? You'll reminisce as if a movie, was playing in your head. You'll wish to tell them caution, but they'll laugh at you instead. So you don your gloves and grab your bag that's now so full of seed. You take your breath and get your knife and clear out all the weeds. Soon you'll find the brush out there, is thicker than you thought. And it is so much stronger, than the mettle that you brought. You know that charging inward, would only only push away, the very ears you wish to hear, the words you want to say. So you look all around you, for a place to cultivate. This little seed you hope to plant, you know will grow too late. You watch the seed and care for it, in hope to see it grow, but be warned it may not happen, as you ready up to go. Just hope that there'll be water, and light from up above. And know that seed was planted,with every ounce of love. And when that seed starts sprouting, just know that they'll take note. And remember all the wisdom, from the tales that you spoke. And on that day just know, that they will get a cup, and collect the seeds upon the plant, you planted there with love. And with their gloves and blade in hand, they'll set out on the trail. And hope to help the next ones , with just another tale.