The Cycle

A single seed falls gently,
taking it's time to hit the ground
And when it reaches Mother Earth,
it's home is finely found

The parent tree neither knows or cares,
where the little seed is gone
It will never know the warmth,
or a soothing mother's song

This small creation,
was made by God's own hand
And we are part of the cycle,
this we must understand

For when we die we are buried,
to become one with the earth
and so the cycle is complete,
to help the seed with it's birth

We are all part of what is living,
only to be separated by death
And then it starts all over,
with the drawing of a newborns breath.

By Nick Sym

Article Source: http://www.articledestination.com

www.freewebs.com/nicksym

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