Seeds in a Jar

I have so much love

to give to the world,

but I keep much of it

shut in a glass jar.

.

It’s safe in there,

I tell myself.

The jar has no oxygen,

the seeds inside it

cannot grow

and blossom

into their potentially

toxic flowers.

.

If I felt safe

outside the glass

I would air these thoughts,

swallowing my seed

like a pill.

Each seed

is a compact collection

of suppressed

feeling and emotions.

.

Inside my stomach,

the seed would blossom.

The flower would then

take over to dictate

my emotional life

in the physical world.

.

I don’t want that,

I don’t want to lose control.

So I keep it locked away in the jar

and look at it’s contents

whenever I feel down.

It’s my treasured jewel box

and it’s contents are my keepsakes

eternally(?)

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