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“Samara” A flying seed… (Part 2)
I started seeing, the sea of light;
orange and yellow, purple and white.
Hugging the sun, soft and warm;
no more darkness, no more storm.
Gentle breeze night after night,
no more anguish no more fight.
Oh my goodness, life is bright.
Spring and summer, both delight.
Wind with music, night and day;
Spring is amazing, April and May.
What happened? I was a dying seed.
Now I became a flowering weed.
Everywhere I looked heaven on Earth.
Thousands of flowers ready to birth.
Whispering breeze warm and gentle;
telling me to be, no more judgmental.
To live or die, try and try
With love you fly, fly and fly.
Summer is good, summer is fine,
which you rather, grapes or wine.
Little by little, top to bottom,
Trees turn yellow, orange in autumn.
Autumn is a season, season of yellow.
It takes away, without any sorrow.
Autumn is a season filled with sorrow
Its wind will take the things you borrow.
Colder and colder night after night,
shorter and dimmer the source of light.
Winter is coming angry and shameful.
Freezing and chilling, piercing and painful.
It covered my body with a bitter snow;
I lost my flowers, nothing to show.
Dying is easy, a good night sleep;
Not like counting sheep, no more weep.
Once, I was, a flying seed.
Next, I died in my lasting deed.
I did wake up in a mountain of light;
filled with contentment absence of fright.
I went through the cycle of rhyme.
Arrived and fresh, bloomed in time.
My seeds are flying, cautious but tender.
They know exactly what it is to render.
There will be storms in their upcoming.
But, no more fear of what becoming!
No more fear of becoming.
Dying or living both welcoming.
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