Seed

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
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A consciousness without visible form stirs below ground level wondering...what am I?

Submitted: February 08, 2017

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Content

Submitted: February 08, 2017

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Seed

 

 

I cannot measure this moment - For I have not gone beyond it

And where the start I’m guessing - When look do I to find it

But in this moments dawning- I felt relief begin

In golden crowns releasing -Gone was grief within

The entire endless query- If soil and I were one

And would my gift be just to give- To what unfolds above?

 

Answered now through chilling umber- By whispers ears leaned in to meet

In the dim light glazing- Hope now softly speak

Such blindness cannot tell its making- Cannot know its form

Until the seed its shell forsaking- Touches then the warm

And so what darkness was my passing- Passes now to moment new

A moments time has come now gone- Tastes the buds’ first morning dew

 

John T DiPonzio  2010 


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