The seeds of destiny are sewn, Within the soil we call our own. You wander through the shifting shade, Where every choice and path is made. You cannot pluck a stolen bloom, Or find your joy in foreign room. The petals meant to touch your hand, Will only grow on chosen land. So do not weep for missed delight, Or flowers lost within the night. The universe aligns the plot, To give you what the heavens brought. Trust the dirt beneath your feet, Where fate and expectation meet. You will never pick a rose, In the wrong garden where it grows.