Walking over the same path
Isn’t easy
If the weeds have grown
All along
No, I will not clear the weeds
The flowering herbs
Must contain their dreams
The path will remain unkept
Someday
A sweeper of sighs
Will pass by this path
Who knows then
The stones will be cleaned
The weeds will be pruned
By then
These might get re classified
As ornamentals
In a Temple of tears