Graduation

On the surface, our minds

Are like a treasure chest

Sparkling with knowledge

Earned throughout our quest.

But what really is a mind?

And what is a degree?

Are they coins to be collected

And never to be set free?

To answer, one might say

That, to start, you are a tree.

You take root and stretch up and out

Towards maturity.

If you stand as a tree,

Then your mind is the network

Of veins shuttling material

On which you can do work.

This material is everything

That has happened as you grow:

The books, numbers, and memories

And the love and pain you know.

From all of this has come lessons --

Some faded, some still fresh --

About the workings of the world

Or about the spirit and the flesh.

Now, if tree veins are the mind,

And if you are the tree,

Then a degree is a bud

With petals now coming free.

For just as blooms precede

The bearing of new fruit,

Graduation marks the start

Of pursuing a new route.

For graduation does not lie

In the walk across the stage.

It lies in acknowledging

What you learned from each page.

It lies in recognizing

The endless sacrifices made

By parents, teachers, mentors, and others

Who selflessly gave you aid.

It represents the sleepless nights

And muscles you broke to be stronger.

It’s the sparkle of your loved ones’ tears

And a bird kept caged no longer.

So while our sight of life

May not be twenty/twenty,

Seek the truth in hope,

Class of twenty - twenty.

Ask, seek, and knock for the Truth

As leaves strain for the sun.

For the ground you’re rooted in shapes you

And you shape everyone.