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Photo Michael Marsh on Unsplash

Seeds need the acceptance of soil

Next comes the roots’ lonely toil

We claim the fruits as ours

Forgetting work of countless hours

Seeds sacrifice themselves

Thanks to those farewells

Leaves flap like airy tongues

Rising to talk to our lungs

The soil stays moist and sweet

As nascent roots spread their feet

There’s a hidden world beneath

We’ve covered with hard concrete

Birds know the value of seeds

To them, they are like prayer beads

Giving a chance to sing to the divine

Innocence grants them a hotline

Originally published at on August 8, 2019.

Physician I Poet I Transformational Philosophy - Free awareness and its power to transform. . Learn more-

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