In blackest night
grows the seed of Life
Blue frost in our pleading veins
we sink deep…
Beneath snows, and wish for light to come again;
but needful is this rest, this still;
like death to life is needful
the black earth womb to the seed of light.
Reality, sometimes grim
Is soul medicine in bitter pill
And needful still.
For the growth of the seed so strong in life
From blackest despairing night.