A seed must be plunged into the unknown
into the complete darkness of the underworld
cocooned by dirt and nurtured by composted waste,
before it can begin to grow.
That transcendent first shoot
who reaches up towards light of an ever changing sky
grows down as she grows up.
Above the surface she connects to the wider world,
sleeps beneath the stars and wakes with the sun,
Birds sing alongside, bees come often to visit,
And all the while she must face the weather
who is sometimes kind, other times cruel.
Beneath the surface roots dig deep, grounding into the earth
With the worms, the dead plants, the beetles,
There is no music here, little life and never light.
And there’s always that point where below meets above,
The binding balance between dark and light.
That is who we are, no matter what else happens,
No matter how many thoughts come bounding in,
That is who we are.