The Seeds of All

Nourish the beginnings;
let us nourish the beginnings.
The seeds of all things are blest.
The blight is what we bring.
The blessing is in the seed.

The love that gives ourselves back
is the love that seeps into the crack,
into the soul, and heals.
In that crack is the seed
of all that lay under a wrap,
the seed of all potentiality.

Love and compassion is the key
the energy we direct within,
first at our dormant needs, our wounded soul,
our scars that need to be healed;
healed from the roots, not denied and deceived
into being what we are not: the carriers of someone else's deeds.

Go into the silence.
It speaks.

It is the transcendent place,
not a place of of rapacity and
empty gestures
that hide nothing
except the need to end it all.

A transcendent place
a place ignored completely,
and yet banned by any predictable force;
it's a home to the unrest of the soul
cleansed of the taints begot of the duress.
Those who manage to remember all this while
the address and the location of that place in the crowd,
for them a home that opens without a key.