You blossoming seed placed in sterile earth You'll soon find your soil for now harvest from dirt. Your soul can break it's earthly coil ride air of heavens tide it stays latent in clay carcass you have no choice but to abide. Yet walk morbid loam with head held high advance find what you seek. All manner of thorns imperil your path but they draw blood from the weak. So take it from me you'll be forced to your knees but the world stays at your feet. Like Icarus, soar and claim the sky be a rose that grew from concrete.
I like the way the poem encourages one to keep one's held high despite being a seed that has found no soil so it can grow, like most of us go through a long proccess of trying to be settled.
