I am the tiny apple seed
I’m the gnarled apple tree
I’m the blossom and the tart-sweet fruit
I’m the man who eats of it
I’m beasts that feast on every bit
I’m the air that trees and creatures breath
I’m the lightning strikes it down
I’m rain that washes ash to ground
I’m the Earth that takes them in it’s womb
I’m the seed that germinates
I’m the bee that pollinates
I’m the apple-sappling grows next spring
I’m the scorched and buried root
I’m the struggling springtime shoot
I’m the apple tree that grows in spring
Spirit is the basic stuff
The universe is made up of
It’s the force that drives and binds all things
this simple spirit manifests
When time… conditions are all best
To become the beast, the sky, and me
and if conditions don’t align
Spirit changes – bides it’s time
Seeds are still-born, fruit rots, and I die
But death is just a change of form
Spirit goes on, it’s reborn
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