For want of light the flower drooped, leaving only creeping vine
For want of water to quench thirst, it drank instead of might divine
For want of care it sharpened leaf, learned to stalk prey, slice, entangle;
Its will to thrive has hardened now, past any power to strangle.

Penned by my hand on the 13th of Phaestian, in the year 891 AF.