Seeds

I had not known what seeds I'd sown.
But absentmindedly, I dropped them.
Distractedly, I watered them.
Preoccupied, I nurtured them.
And now all about me are but weeds.
Entangled in all I had not thought of.
Entwined in purposeless knots.
Caught in the incessant growth
of my own continuation.
For one builds cathedrals,
or digs graves.