SEEDS

by on March 6, 2012 :: 0 comments

Are we dead
before we are born?
Do we sense
the long void of husked
silence, lying
like a seed,
dormant?
Do we suddenly spring
from our cauls
to swirl
in the cycles of light
only to wither
and return
to the wombed earth,
dead again?

editors note:

Seek meaning in the asking. The answers come too late to matter here and now. – mh

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