The vernal commencement mirroring mortality
Extracts it's own oblique morality,
Defining, rather than reflecting,
Tumultuous beginnings and endings
Too vividly, too overlooked, discounted,
Then easily dismissed
As miniature, devoid of real nature,
And so then, disappointing recognition's bliss.

Within the terrain, it's shelter,
Cast there affixed to the course of fate
Rests a life-longed, awaiting happenstance.

As milt, this ovule, hides, sleeping in pre-life existence,

Dormancy, needing a spur or emblem to awake.

Roused from slumber to trance
From an intangibility, an unknown fervor.
Uncontrollably disturbed into a notion of life
That would not acquiesce in it's betterment.

Rootlets reach down to consume and partake
And the barest of spirit emerges in shape.
The promise, beginning, oblivious to loss,
Is suckled in Springs effulgent grand cost.

Sadly it seems, this seed, now confused,
Senses a glow that is not what Spring loosed.
It was from Springs Sun, and was truly new,
It was also too early, Winter was not through.

The deception, the scheme, the natural arrangement,
That from time to time, transcending amazement,
Provides an uninvited truth
That bludgeons all reason in justice as moot.

In this blossoms beauty, forever unknown,
Wilts the sorrowful frankness of circumstance.
             .....I know......