slice student contest 1

To wander through a garden

To peer upon the plants

To solemn sit upon a bench

To touch the soil with hands.

The vines they have no consciousness,

the ferns are unaware.

they do not know of conflict, pain,

the have no quarrel there.

It seems that plants have no complaint at all within this earth

To never smile, but never weep

no sorrow, joy, or mirth.

But as I sit, my wrists are pricked by thistles on my seat

and yet in contrast to the pain,

sweet sun upon my feet.

So does the joy outweigh the pain, and is it all worth while,

or does the vague content of shrub

render real life too vile?

to never walk upon the sand, or use a tone of voice

but then I must remember that

we don't quite have a choice.