Friday, April 06, 2007

The Sprouting Heart (a poem)

At the end of the halcyon days,
came spring,
came spring.
The moon, though beautiful,
set at last,
and the sun warmed my earth.

The small and fragile seed
planted itself,
planted itself.
The weeds, though persistent,
and also beautiful,
yielded to a fresh and hopeful green.

And finally it was heard,
the Truth,
the Truth.
The heart, though watery,
whispered, hushed,
"I just want to Be, myself."

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