To The Flower In The Desert. Poem by RIC BASTASA

First, you tell me that this must be done.
I commented, yes, that will be nice.
Second, you suggest that this will be nice in Riza's place.
I suggested otherwise.
It will be better at Nicco's since the trees are taller and
the grasses are greener.
Later, you spread the news. It will be at Nicco's.
Ten answered. They will be there.
Then i got sick. Mother Nature says,
I am not good.

The ought was not done.
The Thing did not push through because as you said,
I was not there, and that
I told you that THIS MUST BE DONE.

i AM just wondering why the OUGHT cannot be done without me?
Am i the wheel of the truck?
Am i the steer of the ship?
Am i the owner of the place where Nicco's trees are growing taller and
his grasses spreading greener?

I am not. I am not the Ought.
Then you said this no time to discuss this matter.
You are in a meeting with God.

You lied. I am not the OUGHT. You schemed me out.
You want be to become the river
where your boats will be sailing.

You lied, It is unfair. I am therefore cutting the water.
I cancel myself. I do not exist.