Swiftly, the buried lines of life burrow downwards, spirals unending,
Spreading lower, pulsing souls sleep softly dreaming,
Their half-glimpsed reality rising in a trunk of silence, the gnarled survivor.
Realised through blinded eye, branches burst forth, marking chance;
Engulfing and encompassing, they sit in skylines as shelter to change,
Life born forth from an earthy womb, expelled, self-stripped, to white
Seeds sown by a mother watching eternal, forever in her shadow -
Their shadow. Cast across the heavens, now punctuated by new blooms, Light.