Love Of The Seeing



I'm enamored with the process of creation
Sweet selective seedling, of germanation
With a scent primevil,holding a constant progression
Inhaltion a prodding toward varied expression


What form or stirring would birth by first breath
Would it lazily drift, or pull by it's depths
To a root surrounded by a blanket of earth
Location would dare not to dictate such birth

For concepts and words await recognition
As each day follows last with with inspired commission
Yes process would reign supreme for its being
It exist's as it is....it is love....of the seeing

Pax
A
6/1/10