The parable of the seeds

Sometimes we flit about like birds –

a fretful, fluttering existence –

snatching at seeds, then darting off –

distraction driving off persistence. 

Or else – epitome of pure persistence –

so seeming sure – solid – a rock –

bulwark against change, desire –

foundation stone or stumbling block?

Or else – thrill-seeker, addict, strutting

the labyrinthine, thorny track –

eyes seduced by every gleam –

more, more, more – what do I lack?

Seeds of grace – scattered wide –

dead for days in dark rich loam –

mercy within mercy within mercy –

green shoots, deep roots in human home.