They cannot seem to see it all,
To view me as a whole,
Well past my skin they cannot look,
They are all blind to my soul.
They only pay attention to,
The swaying of my tree,
But how firm my roots are planted,
They cannot seem to see.
When I’m an oyster, hidden and plain,
With sand that’s gotten in,
They see the roughness of my shell,
Not the pearl I’ve made within.
Of the steps I’ve built and scaled,
They notice just the creaks,
But when it comes to the heights I’ve reached,
They ignore the towering peak.
Alas, when they are in those mines,
Filled with treasures to behold,
They see no darkness, dirt, or grime,
They only see the gold.