How many of humankind
think ourselves seeds growing in the dirt
certain showers will pour praise from the heavens
"nurture us, provide for us, acknowledge us !" we demand
yet we seem to forget the work of the seed in the land
so tough, so hard, so determined is the seed
that it breaks the barriers set in dirt
but do we?
do we work?
or do we sit in the Earth
questioning why the sun hasn't shined upon our face
wondering when dirt will push up our pedestal to the surface
I don't know if it's very obvious, but the poem itself is supposed to look like a tree! Hope you enjoyed
:)
