Sowing...

It came to me
When I was young
That I would never be
       A great philosopher
       A healer of wounds
       A doer of mighty deeds
       A finder of hidden treasure
I am but a gardener
Simply a planter of seeds
A waterer of saplings
Encouraging tender shoots to burst forth
Eventually
Overshadowing the gardener
As branches stretch ever nearer
The great vast expanse
I am not forlorn
That the world
Knows not my name
I am content
That the seed sown
In the midst of the tumult
Has thrived and now
Sends forth seeds of its own
For me to plant
And nurture
And love