Out of one seed
how many seeds again
to the ebon Earth
warm and returning?
Eternity presumed
in a worm-cast bedding,
rain-wet and brimming.
Open ended inception
of the dark and probable womb
making space for the determined
and all it's loose-tied light-wires
stringing off into every abyss.
Potential is Here,
still though not asleep,
she is very much alive and viable,
eyes wide beneath the surface,
her pacific inhalations
example for the dynamic,
her sighing a guide,
like a mother at length,
gently directing
the life of her child.
Out of the night
the light is risen,
out of the dusk,
a bent-spectrum slips.
In the void
there is no coming
or going,
no place else to where one may be banished.
In the open hands of odyssey
we are forever received.
Of the sojourn cyclic
myriad destinations meet in the middle
where a thousand flowers flame.
Out of one seed
how many seeds again
to the ebon Earth
warm and returning?