brief becoming

does the 

germinating 

seed 

resent

the surface?

upon reaching it 

does it 

dread 

the upward 

and

the outward? 

and what

then 

does

it make 

of 

the 

blooming? 

imagine 

how idle    

it’s secret 

struggle 

in the 

depths of

of darkness 

if only 

it gave up 

growing 

at the surface. 

how absurd

it’d be for it 

to begrudge  

its unfurling 

in the light 

how senseless 

for it to 

resist 

its 

bloom. 

twenty eight  

may sound old  

(to some) 

but to me it 

sounds like 

birds 

it sounds like

breeze 

it sounds like 

beginning 

I’m one year 

further in 

my brief 

becoming – 

and if the 

germinating 

seed 

doesn’t resent 

it’s gradual becoming 

– then why should I? 

I may 

never be 

a seed again, 

but if

I always 

was 

I’d never 

know what 

it is 

to bloom

either.