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All Seasons in One
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Sooner never was,
Later never came;
​Waiting for a cause
To free oneself is but a game.
And now freed from the daze of time
Soaring high, I see below
I am seed, I am root,
I am flower, I am fruit.
Plowing deep, I slowly sow;
From birth to dearth,
To birth again.
Gliding low, I swiftly flow;
From breath to death,
To breath again.
To await tomorrow is a crime, 
For thy soul Now is the only clime.


ekoh
© 2017