seed

back when a black sky awakened with the first smudge of the first orange light and continued to brighten under a newly formed sun, in an era before many words were spoken, and then later when the sentences uttered were few and guttural, and then way beyond that when, at last, there was a babel of languages—none of which could possibly be comprehended today—it flew across the land.

it careened past fiefdoms and serfdoms and dukedoms, danced over terror and famine, knowledge and expansion, sprouting famous and infamous people—kings, queens, generals, empresses, tzars, dictators, poets, prophets, tyrants—and all the lesser folk no one has ever heard of or read about in a book.

on mountains, deserts, plains and jungles it settled and lived, grew strong and insistent, lifting and spreading itself at every opportunity, seeping like mist, rising like vapor in and around every gaping crack on earth.

it flowed river-like along currents of time—air and ocean currents, too—and, most recently, sailed on wooden ships, steamships, and liberty ships and cruised on jet planes. it arrived in this place, right here where i stand on the porch in the bright, warm sunshine eating an apple and pushing a stray piece of hair out of my eyes. tirelessly it traveled and then presto!—became the me of me.