Each one's own

He saw the world

as a garden, and

they found it weird

that he dug, planted,

watered, weeded.

They didn't find him

reading books

and they thought

he was stupid.

He looked at them,

and he thought

how lazy they were;

all they did was sit

and read books.

“Look at him!”

How shabby!”

“Look at their hands!

How smooth!

Never worked!”

But, there are gardens,

and there are books;

they both exist! We 

choose. One. Maybe both.

Something else, perhaps?

Choice.

Perspective.

The mind’s eye -

it perceives; it

makes meaning
from its own reality.

Each one's own...