I Study the Roots

I study the roots,
but the world sees only flowers.
They tell me I am wasting my time,
"Why are you playing in the mud?"
"Come join us and smell these flowers growing in the sun."

I appreciate the flowers,
but I do not worship them.

This
offends
many
that
 do.

I see what they cannot see,
because they refuse to view the roots.

At this point, many believe that roots don't exist.
That they're just a myth,
maliciously spread by those who chose,
to waste their time,
dumbly in the mud. 

While greater minds,
with greater ties,
gloried in the sun.

But unbeknownst 
to starry eyes,
a sickness grew
beneath the vines.

Beneath the ground,
under the mud,
an omen of the ills to come.

But they would not hear,
they would not listen,
for I was covered in mud,
And they saved their ears,
only for those things which made their hearts glisten. 

So when the colors on the flowers start to fade,
when they no longer bloom,
No shallow glory to be displayed,
and all wilts, maroons, and decays away...
They will curse the gods, asking:
"Why why why?"
But in their own ignorance,
they are their own answer.