17 Listening to White Stripes on Repeat

I have an acorn in my hand

I am curious as to what it will be

Will I grind it into flour

Will I plant it in the ground

Will I throw it to be gathered

Will I keep it safe and sound

What does the acorn want?

Does the acorn even want?

How will I ever know?

It will not respond.

It is my choice, then

Use, grow, throw, keep

It's always my choice

My universal affectation

The acorn in my hand

Has no expectation

But choices at hand 

Often not inanimate

You do what is right

Let the acorn plan