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Inspiration in the seed of hope
by David Barger
2015-12-07 07:52:06
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There in our backyard
Within the boundaries
Of a worn wooden fence
Is a Japanese plum tree.
natural_400Its trunk is twisted,
And the branches spread out
Like an oriental hand held fan.
Many have grown barren
Seen naked without leaves,
But the ones which still live
Hold beautiful deep purple color
With a shine of red tint
Cast throughout small veins.
A few of the dead branches
I had to cut down in hopes
That the tree would deliver
Life to the ones which remained,
But I am afraid and sad to say
Each year more and more
Of this once inspiring tree
Has instead become an entangled
Growth of unsteadied ugliness.
Limbs of decay and rotting twigs
Whose leaves fall away to never return
Once the newness of spring arrives;
It is seen as an empty spiral of branches
Left naked to become scorched under the sun.

There is hope in a seed I found,
A seed, which has been lying in my mind
Where great promise has been growing
Steadily as I water it day in and day out
In the form of thoughts placed into words.                                                                               
Its trunk is straight, and should one set
Their sights on these branches which span
As far as the east is to the west
They would catch a glimpse
Of the hope I have planted to grow wild and free.
The possibilities of growth here are endless
Climbing as high as I am willing to allow.
The moment is vastly approaching
When I shall indeed have to chop down
What is remaining of that once beautiful plum tree.
Prying at roots which cling deeply
To the under layering of rich earth.
The chasm will be opened
As the insects watch
Environment change again before micro eyes;
Feeling around for a new path to follow
Wandering in search of a familiar scent,
A distinct odor leading once more
To a colony, a hive, a passage home.
The emptiness will stare back at me
Where such hole dug of soil and crust lingers
Faintly calling out from the void
Wiping clean all the time that has been taken
To nurture and care for a tree, a promise,
A mere whisper of smoke that is slowly gone;
But with every ending there is a new beginning
A stronger promise, a brighter hope,
And a greater sense of accomplishment
Found in planting a sapling,
Or bound in holding tight to a new dream.
Then the question remains:
Does the price being paid outweigh
The rewards which are set up in the future?
For only when we look into the past can we
State what has truly paid off;
What was worth the risks being made,
Or the sacrifices being felt.
Hope itself cannot be seen in physical proportions.
Hope is the envelope that has been sent,
But not yet received;
Or the seed which has been planted,
But has not yet sprouted.
It is the pre substance of faith.                                                                              
I believe there is a horn of plenty
Ready to overflow from the fruits of my labor,
And therein lies my hope with such calling
As I have written it down. 

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