Seed

Drifting, an ungerminated seed;

Swept by forlorn winds over concreted soil.

Imagination fabricates the merry orchestra

of a rock-strewn stream,

Tricking hope of close rewards to bloom,

In a mind left fallow;

Unused by Possibilities.

The sudden collision of funnelled air

leaves the aging seed caught on loose stones;

A quiet nook of uninterrupted solitude,

Where begins the journey of returning to soil.

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Published on: The Nothing in Between/WP

Photo by Grant Durr