We have heard of life’s wheel
We heard over and over …
“We all live and die!
In between ... we celebrate life!
Plants and trees shoot up
After a short or long while
They do take their shining spot
Though soon they wilt ... crumble on the ground
And become part of the nesting bed
Like those who've come and gone
They make new beds for fresh growths
Who likewise rise and rejoice!
We heard of life’s paths
We heard over and over
“Not all womb-conceived
Live fairly chosen lives!”
For some, life is snuffed before it could fully form
For those able to live or breathe their fragile worlds
Life takes tragic turns of neglect and abuse
They are ghosts reduced to take spots in the shadows
They moan and they cry, but their voices get muted
They are the walking, living dead in our thriving world
Unlike plants that celebrate their birthing and dying
Their rising from seed is nothing more than cursed dawn!
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