A Garden's Story.


A bittersweet taste in my mouth of both seizing and missing.
Because of the death and life, and again the death and life of me.
I thought I was alive
I felt the flow of juices through my tubes, but it was a magic trick.
My insides are cold and arid, because fear has invaded like a Tsunami that sucked in the truth of my being and released venomous smoke, eroding me.
Erosion is not fixed with a flood.
That just would damage it more.
But little by little,
Water.
Droping by and by
So the plants will start germinating.
First a cygot, then a little stem.
Followed by a leaf and another and another one.
A bean that was dead now produced a living citizen of the Universe.
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