Growth

Small things, little thoughts
waving and nodding
their heads in the breeze
Sometimes , the way the petals fall
can tell how the shrub was grown

Dig deep and look those
maggoty thoughts disappear
So much vermin, filled in minds
what will drive that out
Then, if driven out, the box opened

Maybe the bugs grubbing will
issue from My pores
Crawl from under My nails
leave to take over the others

Cloudy thoughts and stilled waters,
flow up and take the places
that I needed to be
who shall hold them close
and make them theirs

sometimes the wines soaks the ground ,
sometimes the earth gives up
its fertile gut
Everytime though
when I bury the ones,
They rise in another place

soft breaks in their skins
oozing My essence