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The Seeds of Storms Coming and Passing

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I live a life of peace and storms,
I weave from one into the other,
And bind the second with the first,
Drunk on the spirits of fear and hope;
Hypnotic ebb, hypnotic flow,
When will this infant ever grow?


I dream my life in slices and forms,
I love this heart and hate its brother,
I run from hunger and fall into thirst,
Drunk on my pain and gain I grope;
I know the sower is also the reaper, 
And yet the road to home feels steeper.


I am the sower, I am the reaper,
And I know there is,
And I long to find it,
A different soil, another garden,
Where the passing and the coming are none,
Where the gardner and the garden are one.




ekoh
© 2014