Sowers

IMG_2666.JPGInspired by Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower

We all seal the day with the prayer of our ways
Our speech, our work, our tools and play
We pray ceaselessly the intent of our will
And we only only sometimes come to glimpse
The shape of what we mean.

But we shape on
We form the world
Known and unknown
Seen and unseen
We build castles and crowns
And blood and war
We shape schools
We shape seeds
We shape thoughts and tiny dreams
And though we form daily all possible futures
We sink into thoughts that run in patterns
Or ways turn to ruts
And we can’t stand the shape
Of our oft repeated days
Nor of others’ dreams.

We dream ourselves separate
We dream ourselves seeming
The material of thought makes the material of being
We shape the world and it shapes us
We become manifold
Or
We become none.
I struggle to write one true line
I work to make one true shape
I dream to make one true design
One true word
Or sound
Or movement
That reflects this mind
That must not remain

entirely mine.

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