Pieces of Seeds

Aren't we all pieces of seeds blowing on the sleeve of winds, within my kin, i am outside of you, yet i feel you, planted, deep within. My spirit...it moves across the winds of time as you the breath of universe sublime... shape-shifting... unrelenting... bent on the thought of eternity. How does one world exist? if not for the myth... and the mihr, settling eternally on winds' breath. aren't we all just pieces of seeds, and as we breathe... branch out... bend our dimensions... we send our souls eternally searching.