Going,
Deeper,
Deeper still,
Into dark, dank,
Nothingness…
Alone, cold,
Sense of self, of place,
displaced.
End of life line,
End of road.
“But wait!” Little mustard seed,
Musters strength,
For one final thought,
“Could there be more… than this?”
…Chance Revelation.
Then falling swiftly,
Into complete and utter blackness,
A moment of Silence…
Or two.
Followed by sudden shift,
Movement, a push,
A stretch, great yawn,
After satisfying night’s sleep.
Young seedling,
Inching upward,
Leaves behind,
Dead casing.
Spot of light,
In distance,
Expanding wider,
Brighter still.
With mustard seed of faith,
Life blooms anew…
-Gilda Patricia
gildaspoems 