seeds

these winds have blown
too long for its wear,
i create energy within each vowel
each consonant, each idea
that hang like ripe apples off a tree
ready to be picked.

certain emotions can stagger,
can shake your entirety,
and these are the emotions we learn from,
these are our mentors
when we face the worst alone.

there are no more seeds to plant
on this patch of trodden, dug up,
ripped apart wasteland,
where everything will have an end,
because death is the biggest certainty
of this uncertain life.

this is a comforting thought
among the rubble and
decrepit landscapes that shape
the world in my hands.

death is coming
it always is
but i will not just sit and wait for it
but let it work hard
to catch up to me
one more time, one last time.
and when it does
it will not let me go
so i will embrace the surrender
the final overtake.

there are no more seeds to plant
on the landscapes of this restless life,
now watch as the rest of us
wither into frail, dried up
images of time.