Message Received
I sow a seed,
In the darkest places,
Of my heart,
Where it sits and waits,
For waters to flow.
The waters of love,
Did finally come,
The light of hope,
Shone fierce and strong,
Yet before it could form,
Take root or move,
It required a sound.
Until now, I was confused,
For it was not the seed,
The held the bloom.
Before all the blood,
The birth and growth,
In the corner of my soul,
The sound was spoke.
And in the darkest places,
Of my heart,
It's echo still rang,
Soft yet sharp.
Embedded in the depths,
Of our primal soul,
Where darkness can gather,
And all our hurts sown,
There was a whisper,
Of love and demand,
Amidst the soil,
In the hearts' of man.
To every bitter seed,
We would plant,
These words would come,
And our pain it could mend.
If we can hear,
And obey,
Our seeds would form,
Then bloom in clarity.
But we can not know,
The words left in us,
'Tis the tone it carries,
And with it Love.
