Copulating Seeds
The clouds of voice gather,
In sky-space consciousness,
Wanting to shower in torrent of love words..
The bed of unquiet mind lays ready and fertile,
Having being pillaged by seeds of wicked thoughts..
When the hour is dark and the temperature is right,
Shedding the modest seed-coat,
The thoughts are eager to germinate,
blossom into action..
Like an unexperienced juvenille,
it sprouts before time,
Bursting through surface with all its might..
Only the ripe ones can spurt,
The rest remain dormant..
Waiting to be tampered by experienced handlers..
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