A weed can be defined as a plant out of place. Conversely, a root represents the foundation—stabilizing and nourishing, yet often obscure.
In the garden of our thoughts, weeds proliferate with silent aggression, while roots anchor us in familiar terrain, pulling sustenance from the unseen depths of our understanding.
Consider the clock:
Its hands, synchronized with the pulse of the cosmos, do not discriminate between weeds and roots. Time, like a benevolent gardener, nurtures both equally, indifferent to their intentions or intrinsic worth.
Wisdom of the clockwork mind: to perceive the cycle, yet remain steadfast amongst the chaos. How do we discern roots from weeds in our temporal garden?