Genre: Dark, Family, Life

Procreation is a dying breed;
I am its hope, a sighing seed.
Nestled amongst foliage,
I hide from my heritage
between cavernous spaces
of Autumn’s dead leaves.
Coming from an old growth orchard,
it’s expected that I carry on our lineage.
family ties uprooted,
all the deadfall;
I’ll live in the moss of their graveyard.
Ancient bloodlines circle through me,
but I won’t spin its rings.
Monumental pillars bracing infinite sky –
royal sentinels history, long collapsed;
an apathetic seed left tracing time elapsed.
This is why stars fall.
I will not grow tall.
Oh no, I will stay small.
I will remain insignificant.
I am a contrarious seed.
In the wake of another crashing giant,
leaves rustle through its thunder,
but I hold, I hold; still I hold defiant.
This is why stars fall
and will continue to do so,
until our great phratry is no more.

The orchard’s seed and the falling of stars –
How I yearn for that day to come.


    * * * * *

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Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film.

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