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here, beneath the crusted soil
within a crusted shell--
a sprout,  one?   pushing,
pushing through this crusted soil...

waiting, still, to reach the air,
taste the sunlight-- painfully growing
tendrils, this seedling reaches
a small hand up as if to its mother.

this--  nature has begotten?

yet, one must reach for the sun,
reach to breathe, reach and reach!
to grow, to bloom, to be-- then?
then must grasp and claw and reach, again...

stop and you may die.

I cannot let you die...
You?    I?
find your life, find it soon,
seek your light, your life. 

 mine?

nature has its flukes, its sins--
unmeant, perhaps?   yet meant to be--
as you?   as me?
as...?

there beneath that crusted soil,
within a crusted shell--
a sprout,  only one?  pushing, pushing
through that still so crusted soil.

sprouted tendrils, gasping, grasping;
seedlings, small and frightened
climb weeping-arid-dry.   tendrils reaching...
regardless of why.


I cannot let them die.