I suppose it’s only fitting
That I am born an acorn
There’s nothing wrong with being one
There’s no judging or judgement
Or even happiness
I can’t talk to my fellow Acorns
Or Mother Tree
But if I could
What would I talk to them about?
I bask in my own existence
And let the elements
Guide me to my new home
I let them decide my fate
While I simply soak it all in
I wonder when it will rain again?