Was the seed in strife?
From pain did it then emerge?
It must lament death...

The cultivator
Was he then the seeds savior?!
Assurance of life

What conditioning!
For mere service to the God
Stripped when fruit was ripe

...Seed sows sorrow now
Bound to the cultivator
Eternal truth found

In strife it may be
But at least then it lived free
When some death seemed bound

And essential

All the thief may steal
Is Earth that you've distinguished
"Your's" instead of "Our's"

In a patterning in which an infinite number of variables could be considered
There is a why not for every why

When I do transmute
Its only the shaped I move
The shapeless I use

Death's liberation
That all things fall forgotten
Lends the will to live

Toes up to the stream
Siphoning an allowance
And there was no fee

Instrumentation
Bows to whispers in my heart
When counting spring buds