Living Words

 

I am

 

That mustard seed

Sown in the Victor’s Isle

 

Defying gravel, to the land of the confluence,

Embraced by Earth, my roots travel

 

To tap from my ancestor’s toil in the soil

Blood, sweat and tears of joy and brief grief

 

From the first man’s sleep I arose

Into a world of words living lives they chose

 

Scribbles of the scribe with the liberty to describe

Become their meaning and come alive

 

Building blocks of creation

Making what wasn’t there to appear

 

Sown in the Victor’s Isle

That mustard seed

 

I am.

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