Once Ripe
Firm hands plants seed into dusk soil.
The soil and seed are nutured by sweat and blood.
Nurtured until perfection, the seed cracks open,
And roots itself firmly into the soil with golden roots.
From the soil comes a rumble, and a trunk shoots up,
Towards the heavens.
Once the ladder towards heaven cease to rise beyond the stars,
Branches start to form out from the trunk like hands.
Soft yet firm hands of one that nurtures,
And from these hands golden apples start to form like atoms, and molecules.
Like the earth and the sea, that sprouted out of his hands and mind.
Once the apples ripen to perfection, they descend towards the earth.
As the apples golden layer touch the soil of impurity,
The apples transform into a being called man.
Transform into a being called woman.
To live, to die, mate, love, hate and shed tears.
And for the cycle of this once majestic tree to be repeated over,
And over again.
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