killed a flower, watering a stone

how blinded was i, to never have seen,
what lay in front of my eyes was gold,
kept mining for silver, settling for old,
killed a flower, watering a stone.
mistook shards of glass for diamonds,
kept every piece away from sand,
threw away what meant most,
now reaching out,
for what slipped from my hand.
planted a garden,
where not one tree stood stout,
for i buried joy in the garden of doubt,
and wondered,
why nothing ever sprouted out.