Bloom, You Must

'My sole employment is, and scrupulous care,  
 To place my gains beyond the reach of tides,'  

                  - Henry David Thoreau  
 
 
I am rooted in such grief  
as fate's sour stream e'er runs beneath  
to carry all the world's runoff,  
flowing wide beyond belief.  
 
In ev'ry man resides this place  
wherein his mind has fallen from grace;  
the hand that brought him far away  
is too the same as new found foray.  
 
Oh, stems that bore such heads of gold  
to rise above the ways of old,  
e'er forth to bloom you must,  
would every bee betray that trust.  
 
'Tis the root of everything  
that comes to light in what sorrow brings;  
perhaps it lands so far away  
blown as seeds to sovereign ways.  
 
And there, shall every answer be  
blooming amongst both rock and tree  
and I, denouncing conformity  
shall bloom alone,  
my mind e'er free.  
 
     .....