"One may not reach the Dawn, save by the path of Night"

Kahlil Gibran

Growing Down To Grow Up

(Written for my children: Carise, Micael and Jason)

Each is a seed of boundless probabilities,

Skin encircling soul, holding all necessities,

Gifts and possibilities, nascent budding rose,

A tint of patterned petals, anxious to unfold.

Unique and wondrous flower, embryonic pod,

Drawn out by Gaia's power, fertile womb of God.

Beneath the crushing clay we wait then break apart,

Alone in seamless silence, enigmatic start.

Each seed must burst asunder, shed its fragile skin,

Lose its perfect circle, then begin again.

A skein of tangled roots exploding into birth,

Fantasies expanding on a tapestry of earth.

Sown and sewed by Daemons within and out of sight,

Likeness cloaked in darkness, emerging into light,

Pushing through the soil as the Plantsman works above,

Dispensing rain and weeding, each an act of love.

Delicate newborn sprout pierces the emerald lawn,

Finally rising upward after months of growing down.

A shoot, a stalk, a blossom…then the sated bloom,

Symphony of brilliance, supple budding plume.

end/Michael Bogar