Amidst all opposing forces.
We,
Seeds,
Clenched in muddy fists.
Hoarded from whence we came.
Each plunged by the tip of a finger into murky, stifling darkness.
We,
Choked and trapped, now drenched.
Our insides writhing and expanding,
We break.
Our depths reaching outwards, blindly twisting and curling both downwards and up.
We,
Stretching with aching desire for an unknown source.
We,
Against all odds, watch as our bedfellows are plucked, devoured and wither.
Still we reach into our center and expand evermore.
We find light.
Pushing against the grave we have encountered.
Once cement, now the clay we claw and ground in.
We find hope within the struggle and scream "I am here", as we poke through the tunnel we created.
We find room to breathe,
And we do.
We breathe deeply in unison.
Then we bloom.
For blooming is what we were designed to do.
From bag to bag,
We beget what will again follow.
Whispering as we fall,
"This is why, that why was it."
Whether for a day, or only an hour.
That we were.
**this was inspired by a painting, in the photograph, by Artist James Flux.
