To flower
in sunshine and air,
a seed falls
into the loam,
where the dead gather
like old old friends
to compost their pain
into beauty.
I am a seed.
To sing, I fall
into silence.
To radiate the light
of joy, I fall
into darkness.
To know wisdom,
I leave the dry land
of thinking
and fall into the ocean
of bewilderment.
Are you poor?
Do you desire wealth?
Be a seed.
Become poor in spirit.
Vanish into your opposite,
giving thanks
for a blade of grass,
the stillness of the swallowtail,
the rising and falling
of this breath.
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