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 life,
sublime...
shape-shifting...
unrelenting...
bent on the thought of eternity.
How does one world exist?
If not for the myth...
and the myrrh,
settling eternally on wind's breath.
Aren't we all just pieces of seeds,
and as we breathe...
branch out...
bend our dimensions...
we send our souls eternally searching.
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