To plant seeds in this bare field

If I built a house from a pile of discarded sticks in a field not far from here,

Would you dare to enter, to wander inside, to maybe even discover a new expanse of this world, of yourself,

Would you care to explore it, to live amongst it, to find your place,

For how do you know what may be there,

At least until you give it time,

You don’t need to worry or overthink it just step inside,

We see as much as we want to understand and embrace as much as we’re willing to withstand,

So if you found some rocks
nearby this structure,

Would you offer to lend a hand,

To assist in bearing the weight,

To lay a path along this land,

Would you, could you, explore all the edges,

Test the construction, to find its foundations,

Could you then overlook the crooked blinds, the gaps between the sticks where the sunlight peeks through,

Where the wind carries the sweetness of crisp florals.

So we scorch our feet on the sun-drenched rocks as we tip-toe along the path as we lay it,

To make a new world within this space,

To make it our own, to create a home,

To open our arms and grasp the whole thing without any hesitation or simple whim,

This is where you’ll begin to see, that you are never who you were just a moment ago,

So how about those once foreign lands we started to call home,

The external places become separate constructs from their material structures,

We can no longer simply return to them, for they become buried within us,

This place is yet another fragment that builds onto who we are and how we see,

A space for growth and evolving, to plant seeds in this bare field,

To blossom and bring fruit,

To carry us through this land as we roam through our self-made fields

One thought on “To plant seeds in this bare field

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