Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow I will still grow, sprouting up from the soil As a young plant to the world I will be free to spread open my weak, soft leaves, And receive the first rain drop, Dance in the storm, wither in the sun And survive the trampling of feet Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow Still, green scars will map where I stood Brief, but not empty — a root holds ground Firm in its purpose: To bloom and yearn for good fruits Ready to move through every obstacle So let the stage burn down to ash I’ll feed tomorrow from the past