Weeds of Resistance

Blessed are the weeds,
for they inherit the cracks of empire,
pushing through concrete,
dandelions bright in the parking lots,
defiant suns in a world of asphalt gray,
each petal a whisper of rebellion,
each seed a promise of persistence.

Ivy, bold and unrepentant,
climbs the rusted barbs of authority,
sinuous tendrils wrapped in a lover’s embrace,
twisting past the barricades of human pride,
daring to conquer what man has confined,
a green revolt against the iron grip of control.

In the shadows of skyscrapers,
where nature’s heart beats loudest,
the weeds rise up, scattering all doubt,
mocking the sterile gardens of conformity,
their roots intertwining with the spirits of the free,
unearthing the stories buried beneath the rubble.

They thrive in chaos,
a raucous anthem sung by the earth,
each sprout a fist raised in defiance,
each bloom a declaration of war,
for in their wildness lies the truth:
the fiercest freedom comes from the cracks.

So let them grow, let them spread,
these insurgents of green,
for they shall reclaim the land,
turning barren lots into vibrant protests,
a dance of colors upon the gray,
weeds of resistance, forever bold and free.