Seeds II

The dogma of human spirit and endeavour, troubles me to no end. The purpose of life. The finding of love. The search of the meaning, the road less traveled, or making new paths. None appears to be any more than my mere despotic disposition. The goal. The milestone. The insatiable craving for glory after the grave.

A seed holds the entire wisdom to become a magnificent tree. It’s the nature inherent in totality within. I find it perfectly calming to know that I too once was a seed. And I need not try becoming the tree. I will become one how hard I try otherwise. Suddenly, that accords freedom from time to be playfully meditative and meditatively playful.