Monday Rare and Poem

Just a short notice, today's rare are Gloves. Again. I'm getting tired of them....


And here's a poem. Can you interpret it?  *This is not my poem. This poem was written by Julio Noboa Polanco. This is not my work or poem*

Identity by Julio Noboa Polanco

"Let them be as flowers,

always watered, fed, guarded, admired,

but harnessed to a pot of dirt.

I'd rather be a tall, ugly weed,

clinging on cliffs, like an eagle

wind-wavering above high, jagged rocks.

To have broken through the surface of stone,

to live, to feel exposed to the madness

of the vast, eternal sky.

To be swayed by the breezes of an ancient sea,

carrying my soul, my seed, beyond the mountains of time

or into the abyss of the bizarre

I'd rather be unseen, and if

then shunned by everyone,

than to be a pleasant-smelling flower,

growing in clusters in the fertile valleys,

where they're praised, handled, and plucked

by greedy, human hands.

I'd rather smell of musty, green stench

than of sweet, fragrant lilac.

If I could stand alone, strong and free,

I'd rather be a tall, ugly weed."