Reverentia Invasoris

By Amna Salman

A curious seedling peeked at me,

Beneath the rubble of history's deeds.

It whispered of legends, tales untold,

And all it could become, if nurtured bold.

Curiosity stirred where instinct stilled,

I cupped it gently, as wonder willed.

Its roots crept forth, a quiet plea,

Planting dreams deep within me.

To my humble home, I brought it near,

And placed it where the flame burned clear.

There it grew with relentless might,

Claiming the space, both day and night.

My heart bloomed with its scattered seeds,

My thoughts tangled in its promised deeds.

Yet, in its strength, a truth was sown—

It left no room for me alone.

It scattered through each room, each row,

Until its stems were all that grew.

It smelled of decay and deadly brew,

It spread dismay each place it grew.

Soon the overwhelm out took the good,

Soon its needs outran the should.

The promises made, now faintly gleam,

A shadow cast on every dream.

Its roots dug deep, its reach unbound,

Choking all life that lay around.

I watched as it claimed my humble place,

A bittersweet ruin in its embrace.

I sought to tame what I once revered,

But found myself ensnared, ensheared.

Its hunger fed on what I gave,

A relentless tide, a quiet grave.

Now I stand where it began,

Caught in the grip of my own plan.

By Amna Salman