Dwelling on the Ground

Life can bloom in the darkest of places, 

Lichen springing forth in shadow and shade. 

It can not be held out 

When it surges in Gaia's womb. 

Nothing will stop her. 

Love is all that matters -- in giving and receiving. 

Through it we are born again, 

And when it dies

We are renewed by Cupid's burn. 

Though pain may rack us.

Kindness, though sometimes little 

Is all and more in the eyes of the man that is hungry

For an ounce of compassion. 

It is the succor of the world 

and it moves us. 

Hope is a thing best yielded 

In the final fall of rotten leaves. 

It is

The binding that keeps us grounded, 

Frozen in life's gasp. 

Burning up time, 

that is all life is. 

A short flare. 

A brief explosion. 

Endless, limitless, eternal.