Seed of Living
return a million times
over: the chance
in every life cycle
I could tear my breath
in half attempting
a different rhythm.
I could be burning, bloated
on mistakes and bad beginnings.
Nightmares flail across the void,
Then tomorrow, the television,
the zodiac spin, anger at circumstances.
It is the condition that makes sway
dandelion leaves, breaks
the stem of the sunflower.
As dusk denies every pent-up demand.
As morning cleanses every hard-held need obsolete.
© 1992 by Allison Grayhurst