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.


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