Shells and Sprouts

I see us

Like grass.

Our fragile husks

fall,

shed,

wither away.

And fading bodies reveal

the forever God-spark

contained in all.

And when I close my eyes

to the weighted haze of all things held

in human hands,

I sense a new Way.

I am

Learning to relax the weight of my body

into the unseen.

And hoping to God

that from this tiny mustard seed,

pressed hard into the palm of my hand,

will come a

sprout,

plant,

tree.

art cred.